


We Can Say I Love You

by elle_ish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith is a part-time mechanic, Keith is being secretive for stupid reasons, Lance is a fucking awesome boyfriend, Lance is an esthetician, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Massage, Minor Violence, Mystery, New Relationship, Polyamory, Praise Kink, References to Switching, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro has a purple heart, Somethings going on with Keith, There will be smut in the end, They never knew each other before dating, They were random roommates turned lovers, Voltron au, and a student, for massage therapy, hurt!keith, shklance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_ish/pseuds/elle_ish
Summary: “Sex is a destresser for me, maybe it will be for him?” Lance stated easily, as though he were talking about which fruit was better at the supermarket.Shiro sighed tiredly over his green tea, unsure of what to do. This was just a bit more than he had first anticipated when he entered the relationship three months previous. It wasn't that he was upset about it, definitely not. It's just, he didn't know what to do anymore. Shiro felt like he was hitting a wall.Or, the five times Keith comes home hurt, and the one time he doesn’t.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This damned fic has been pestering me for months, so I decided what the heck. I've written 3 out of 6 chapters, so it should be pretty quick with updates.  
> As per usual, I dont have a beta and beta my own stuff (it's also 3 am, fml) so I reallllllyyy apologize in advance for any errors. Please let me know, they do get past me, but I try my best and often re-edit.  
> Hope you enjoy this! It takes place mostly from Shiro's POV, with the exception of chapter three being in Lances so far.  
> Enjoy!

1

 

The door to the bedroom slammed shut, shaking the walls along with it. Shiro knew that it hadn’t actually meant to be slammed, the kid had just been too overly tired to notice any different. 

Then again, he’d been overly exhausted a lot lately, it seemed. He’d come home later and later each night, an array of new bruises marking his beautiful porcelain skin.

Tonight had been no different. Split lip, and a bruised cheek marring the healing black eye from a few night previous. Every other night there was something new. They didn’t know what it was; they didn’t know what was happening.

Lance decided that tonight was enough. Something needed to be done. The other night had been the fifth time in only a month that Keith had come home too late, hurt, bleeding, and tired. Their boyfriend dragged himself through the front door of their apartment, kicking off his converse and skidding over the wood floor. He noticed them, promptly said his apologies, said it had been a bike crash, and went to bed without another word to Shiro and Lance’s concern.

Tonight, the time was growing later and later alongside Lance’s anxiety. The Cuban boy said that if Keith showed any sign of being hurt, he was asking, finally. Even against Shiro’s wishes for Keith to just come to them, it was Keith they were talking about. Keith, who liked space and boundaries. They couldn't just disrespect his wishes and break his trust. It'd ruin everything, Shiro worried. But then again, who liked seeing their significant other hurt? Lance was right: a fifth time was four times too many.

Shiro was sitting at the round dinner table, his green tea getting cold while he waited up for Keith. It was a Friday, and Lance had Saturday mornings off from both school and his job, so he decided he’d wait up too in need of questioning.

Lance was picking at his leftover chinese food, hand on his jaw, worry obvious while he clenched his teeth and simultaneously forked his sweet n’ sour pork. He never took a bite, but rather played with it like a bored child. Lance did look irritated, Shiro thought passively, ready to passionately argue his boyfriend’s well being against whatever it was he was doing. Knowing Lance, he was revving himself up internally, ready to create the goddamn monologue of the century.

Shiro stirred his cup of green tea, trying to offer Lance a reassuring look as the clock went struck past 1 am.

Lance loudly sighed in exasperation, checking his phone again. He turned it onto his home screen and was about to dial in the familiar number _again_ when the door squeaked open. Shiro, on the opposite side of the opened door, could only see the shaking hands holding the wooden frame for balance. There was a noticeable wince as Keith limped inside and into view. He quickly took in the illuminated lamp from the kitchen, and his two boyfriends staring him down as he shut and locked the door.

He at least had the audacity to look guilty; split lip, face bruises, healing black eye, and all.

Shiro let out a sigh. “Keith-“

“What the hell, man!” Lance shouted, jumping from his seat. The chair fell back, and Keith started. He grabbed for his elbow, pushing himself against the door. He was trying to look small again.

Keith grumbled, eyes on the floor.

“What? Is talking to us so hard? No ‘ _hello_!’, no phone call, no text, no ‘ _thank you, my beautiful boyfriends for staying up so late to make sure I live to see another day, making sure I come home okay!’_?!?!?! Lance’s voice pitched to an unreasonable high as he faked a Keith tone.

Shiro could see the amusement etch its way onto Keith’s face, even if he did try to hide it. “I’m sorry.” Keith responded honestly. “I- I uh, I crashed my bike and my phone was dead, so I couldn’t get a hold of you.” He muttered, eyes drawn downward still. He reached for his own, trying to turn it on but to no avail. As proven, the device was dead.

Lance crossed his arms, shooting Shiro a look of disbelief. He rose a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Uh huh?”

Shiro got up from his spot at the table, his green tea stuck in his hand. “ _You_? You crashed it _again_? You crashed your bike three nights ago.”

Keith didn’t look up at him.

“Keith you’re one of the best riders I know.’ Shiro stated equally factually and gently. 

The guilty look plastered on Keith’s face remained and seemed to deepen even further at Shiro’s tone. It fell even past the look of shock, like he didn’t actually remember he had said this. He opened and closed his mouth, looking for the correct words. “W-well I mean, my black eye is still healing and swollen from that crash. And it was raining. Me crashing it again was inevitable.” 

Lance huffed. “How’s the bike?” The taller of the two asked, knowing that the motorcycle was Keith’s pride and joy. Keith probably loved that thing more than life itself. 

Keith nodded, finally looking up and at Lance in the eyes. “It’s okay. I’m going to do some work on it tomorrow. I think there’s something wrong with the front drum break. It was acting up tonight.”

“The front drum? I thought it was the discs that were the issue.” Shiro said, placing his cup of tea down on the table in thought. The two had spent the evening before working on it, but hadn’t finished due to Shiro needing to sleep for his shift this morning. There was definitely an issue there, but the drum?

Keith offered a soft laugh, a hand threading through his wet hair. “Yeah, I thought so too. I finished fixing that up today, and it worked fine at the beginning of the trial ride. But I think when I was centring the floating disc, maybe I created an imbalance somewhere along the break line? The front drum break wasn’t working properly. It was raining. I have a swollen eye. It was a stupid idea.” He ended somewhat pathetically. 

Lance made an exasperated sigh once again. He was a pro at those. “I’m glad you can at least admit it. Next time, listen to me. Don’t run off during the middle of a storm because you’re just ‘ _so excited about your newly fixed bike!_ ’” Lance mocked. He fell back into his chair. He gave Keith a thoughtful once over, emotions changing from anger and dramatic expression to that of worry and concern. 

“How are you?” He asked gently. “You’ve been kind of limping and holding your elbow awkwardly since you’ve come in.” 

Keith blinked. “Oh, uhm. Yeah, yeah I’m fine. My elbow is just bleeding. I think I need some polysporin and some bandages and I’ll be good as new.”

 _‘A good night’s sleep may also do you some good_ ,’ Shiro thought dejectedly. He didn't say as much.

“And the ankle?” Shiro asked. 

“Uhm, I just, landed on it wrong. I think. Yeah, that’s was it…” Keith offered a sad smile, shoulders falling forward. 

Shiro bit his lip, deciding not to comment on the cut lip too. It was too bizarre: Keith wore a helmet. It was brand new, a birthday gift from Lance and Shiro when they had first moved in together as new roommates and friends. Something wasn’t right here, but he couldn’t see past the strained look on Keith’s face.

He decided not to push it tonight. Just as he had every other night. 

Keith brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Anyways, sorry for worrying you guys, and making you stay up late. I’ll try and keep my phone on next time.”

“Going to bed?”

Keith nodded, turning towards the bedroom tiredly. He ran a hand down his back to massage some sore spots. His hands ran over the back of his hips and landed over his fanny packs. He immediately stilled, back going rigid. “Oh yeah!” He recalled, shaking off the previous reaction.

There was something in his voice that made him sound proud. He reached into one of said side packs, bringing out a ziplock bag of money. “I almost forgot,” he started, turning around to face Lance and Shiro. “I stopped by the bank, one of the reasons I went out, y’know? This is the rent money for Saturday. I have it now so before I forget here you go.” He threw it towards Lance, the closer of the two, who immediately tossed it at Shiro like they were playing hot potato.

Shiro was the one to pay the rent money anyways, as the rental contract was originally under his name. Accidentally flirting with the realtor had its perks. 

Keith smiled. He walked slowly towards his boyfriends, his limp not as evident as it had been when he first arrived.

Shiro frowned, knowing that he was putting on a damned act.

Keith bent down to kiss Lance’s cheek, before making his way over to Shiro. He tucked his hand on Shiro’s chest and rose up on the balls of his feet a little to kiss Shiro’s cheek. It was soft and gentle and warm, and Shiro wished he could keep him there. Tuck him away and hold him close. But he was Keith, and keeping a wild lion tied up to be tamed with out its desires to be free was only going to end in disaster.

It wasn’t natural. 

Keith fell back all too quickly, a smile on his marred face while he began to walk away.

“Night guys, see you in the morning.” He offered with a wave, finally turning away.

“Clean up your wounds before you get into the bed!” Lance yelled when they heard Keith fiddling with the bedroom door. “Those are new sheets!”

“Oh,” Shiro realized. “Finally bought the Egyptian cotton you’ve been eyeing?”

Lance gave Shiro a taunting wink. “You know it.”

They heard Keith laugh at the end of the hall. “Will do!” He called, immediately slamming the door.

The tension rose once again, the walls accidently shaking with it. They knew he wouldn’t. The kid was obviously too tired. It wasn’t like he would intentionally break his word, but still - he probably passed out on the floor the moment he closed the door. No way was he making it through a hot, warm shower. And then putting on bandages on afterwards? It just wasn’t going to happen.

“He was lying, Shiro.” Lance whispered after a few moments. Shiro winced, noticing the hurt in his voice.

Shiro nodded. “I know Lance.”

“He is totally not going to wash himself before getting into my nice clean bed!” 

Shiro’s stumbled forward in confusion, thinking they had been talking about Keith’s fabricated story. He shook his head, and went over to Lance and began to massage his shoulders. 

“Yeah, he’s definitely not.” The bigger man moved forward, pressing his lips to the crown of Lance’s head. 

“Come on, we should probably go and check that he made it to the bed this time. And we should probably join him. It’s way past my bedtime.” He mentioned jokingly. 

Lance sighed, his fingers joining Shiro’s on his shoulder. “Alright… But I’m not cleaning the sheets tomorrow if he’s messed them up! Nuh-uh, no way José!” 

They moved to the bedroom, finding Keith still in his wet clothes he walked in with. He was lying uncomfortably on the side of the bed, half his body on and his lower half hanging off. He was as stiff as a board, lying on top of the duvet. Shiro feared that if he even moved, he’d fall. He left way too much space for his other two boyfriends.

In the side of his eye he caught Lance’s eye twitch with repressed anger for his new sheets. 

Shiro shrugged. “At least he’s on top of the duvet and not the sheets?”

Lance gritted his teeth as though the image was as physically painful for him to look at as it was for Keith to move around with his split lip... Or hurt ankle… or healing black eye…. Honestly, pick your poison. 

Lance tore Shiro out of his thoughts with an angry whisper. “The duvet is new too…..” 

Shiro kept his laugh to himself, softening it to an awkward cough.

“Want to sleep middle tonight or me?”

Lance grumbled to himself, stating he’d take the other side and Shiro could have the middle. If the Cuban boy was to sleep beside Keith, especially while still wet on top of the new sheets, Lance may accidentaly tear his head off in his sleep. Yup, completely by accident, he reassured. 

But still: new sheets, dirty boyfriend. Lance was not happy.

Keith was dead to the world as Shiro gently removed him from his wet clothes and tucked him underneath the blanket, placing him neatly into Shiro’s right side. Shiro moved his human arm around his waist, holding him in position with his head positioned on Shiro’s chest. Surprisingly, after the initial uncertainty of the relationship, it was realized that Keith was the cuddler of the group. Once he settled in a little, he was wanting to either be wrapped around someone or wrap his arms around them while he slept. He loved to be cuddled. Keith never would admit it out loud, so it remained a fun secret between boyfriends, and one often extorted.

Also, it wasn’t completely selfish. Shiro wasn’t risking Keith fall off the bed by holding him. See, cuddling was great for a whole variety of reasons. 

Most nights when Shiro was in the middle Lance would be tucked against his other side too. However, tonight he decided he needed some stress relief. Lance kept only a little distance as he had a mask on his face and didn’t want to rub it off on Shiro. He snored loudly while he listened to music, laying comfortably on his back.

They all slept like children, but much to his chagrin, Lance did in fact spend his next free day doing laundry, cleaning the sheets he’d just washed the day previously due to Keith.

Shiro laughed at Lance’s ranting, while patching up the strange assortment of bruises and cuts on Keith’s skin, ignoring how some looked to close to knuckle prints or kicks. He would hiss at the touch of alcohol, soaking the wounds that were so obviously not made from the fabricated bike accident.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I don't have a beta, but I try my best to edit my own stuff. Let me know if anything is wrong, outside of characters being admittedly ooc.   
> Hope you enjoyyyy! :)

2

 

Two weeks seemed to past by without incident. Keith was still leaving and returning randomly in middle of the night, but he was appearing happier. As well, there weren’t any obvious marks on his skin (though most of the time he did wear only hoodies or longer shirts and pants…). But most of his previous were either healed or healing, so Shiro counted this as a win. 

Saying as much, it was just past five on a Thursday, Shiro stirring his mug of miso soup too cool it down. 

Yes, mug. Of miso soup. That Lance made the night before…. Because lord knows Shiro can’t cook. 

Keith could cook, mostly due to having to survive on his own at such a young age, but now he much preferred when Lance took in the reigns for dinner or making leftover meals. Keith would if Lance didn’t want too, but that wasn’t the case. The time way from the kitchen gave Keith time to relax, not worrying about when his next meal would be. And it also allowed someone else to do something they enjoy, to a degree.

Instead of proper meals, Keith found himself baking at odd occasions, specifically things he didn’t eat out of necessity when he was younger. Now, when given the chance, he would bake something he’d enjoy. The two younger men became accustomed to a routine. Lance made dinner and the cooked foods for their Sunday meal prep, the preparation reminding him of his large family back on the coast he used to have to take care of, and Keith would make the breakfasts items, or baked goods. Hefty loaves filled with nuts and darkened bananas, muffins that were somehow both delicious and sweet and chocolaty while being way too healthy for their own good. He was becoming especially good with tarts and pies, having not yet ventured into cakes. He was okay with cupcakes, not the best yet though, he complained.

Lance and Keith would argue over which one was better, sometimes out of boredom. Lance said there was a thrill to cooking, he could follow a recipe to a degree, but he could add or take out things he didn’t enjoy at the time. He could change it a little and completely alter the taste to something better, more individual. Or he could always add onion or garlic to anything, even if it wasn’t there previously. He liked potatoes? He could probably add potatoes to some sort of dish. Want to make something new, quick, but aesthetically pleasing? There were so many options. There was a freedom and artistry to cooking that wasn’t there with baking, which Keith argued made it more fun.

Baking was like a math problem. There was always specific way to do it to gain the correct result. The formula had to be followed every step through. If done correctly, the baked item turned out well; if the recipe wasn’t followed correctly, then the recipe was most likely ruined. There were little things that could be changed, such as the addition or subtraction of nuts or dried fruits, but mostly the recipe had to be followed accordingly in reference to measurements. You couldn’t add more salt or baking powder or milks, or else the chemicals didn’t mix and wouldn’t lift. Baking was logical and followed and understandable formula. He enjoyed that. 

It was the decorating that was the artsy side, which both Lance and Keith would have fun taking care of. 

With this routine down, Shiro got stuck with drink and set up duty. If they all ate together, he literally set the table and got their glasses of water unless they wanted something else. (Lance sometimes fancied a rum and coke during summer nights while Keith went for a darker ale). 

And after gym workouts? Shiro did make a mean protein shake. He was good for something he supposed.

However, those nights where everyone’s laughter filled the cold, air conditioned apartment air were becoming fewer and farther between. Lance’s midterms were coming up and he was pulling extra shifts at the studio, what with his new clients and everything.

Keith was…. being Keith. Shiro honestly wasn’t sure what that entailed anymore, the boy becoming more withdrawn and an enigma as of late. He was still pulling some part time shifts as a mechanic, but he was having issues with his boss. He wasn’t enjoying it much anymore and was having troubles finding an affordable replacement job. 

Shiro sighed, blowing heat away from the soup. He fell onto their leather couch and put on some much needed TV. He settled on a newer documentary on Netflix, brushing his free hand over his fat book of Sudoku beside him, hand waving over another mug of hot green tea on the foot rest/mini table in front of him. It was the beginning of a ‘Shiro’ evening, and he was only a little embarrassed to admit just how excited he was for it after the week he had. Sometimes, he thought, his job as an Officer at the Garrison could go suck it. He never went out on missions after the accident returning back to America (not his fault) and losing his arm (again, not his fault) years previous. Even though it had been a surprise attack from the enemy military against a peace mission, the Garrison had tried to blame Shiro for years.

After their rescue, Shiro had spent three months in recovery at the hospital before being allowed on partial leave at the Garrison. Shiro had massage therapy and rehabilitation once every day, and was only allowed to work a measly 15 hours a week at first. 

Shiro guessed he should count his lucky stars he was lucky enough to even come back. His colleague, Dr. Holt, hadn’t been so lucky…. 

Dr. Holt’s son, however, had been tackled and covered by Shiro and his arm during the initial take down. If Shiro hadn’t have dove over his friend, his crushed arm would have easily been Matt’s skull. It took a few months of pleading and conversations to prove to Matt that it had never been his fault for Shiro’s arm, that Shiro never blamed him, but eventually Matt came around, and Shiro’s phantom pains disappeared like ash to dust.

Now, with full control over his prosthetic, Shiro tightened a fist and then released it. He could feel himself smile at himself, enjoying the peace a ‘Shiro’ evening of documentaries, food in mugs, and Sudoku brought him. Before he could never even handle a little bit of silence. It had been too deafening.

He’d come so far.

There was a calmness around the apartment, one that was only too nice too last since irony was a petty bitch.

The door was slammed open, a yell of “ _Son of a bitch_!” echoing through the room. At the startling noise, Shiro spilled his miso soup in a mug over his lap. “Shit!” he cried at the burning sensation running down his leg. He jumped up, patting it off with his free hand.

“Shiro?” He heard Keith call, looking worried from the doorway. He moved past the kitchen and towards the living room, noticing Shiro’s wet pants around his crotch. He stopped midway between table and couch to arch an eyebrow. “Have a little too much fun, Shiro?” He teased.

“Not the time, Keith.” Shiro sighed. 

“Sorry.” Keith laughed “As much as I love to see you pantless, I really think you need to get those off of you.” 

Shiro became resigned, biting past the numbing pain over his skin. Keith lifted his hands up in defense. “Not coming onto you, but we need to get the burn wet. So take off the pants.”

Shiro nodded. “I know…”

“Then why pray tell, Mr. Officer, are you still standing in them?” Keith further teased, his eyes teasingly heavy lidded with lust. He walked up to Shiro until they were face to face.

Shiro eyed both directions. “…. Because it hurts to move.” He admitted bashfully.

“Awwwhhh, okay, goddammit you’re like a kicked puppy right now. Uhm, I have an idea.” 

Keith fell to his knees in front of Shiro, placing his painted black nails on Shiro’s belt. At the angle, Shiro could see Keith’s soft hair, placed into a bun at the top of his end. 

Oh, oh no, that was the ‘ _I’m-done-with-life’_ bun, placed messily on the top of his head without anything holding it together. Lance would have a fit when he got home, complaining about breakage to Keith’s already well-known split ends. Then again, maybe not, because Keith’s shirt showed off his collar bones and the edges of his narrow shoulders. It was looser around the chest and tight around the waist. The crimson-purple looked nice against his black hair and tighter black skinny jeans. Shiro now noticed the thick black choker tightened against his boyfriend’s neck. 

Given the hair, the clothes, the nails, and the black choker, Shiro could probably take a guess and say that that Lance’s studio had another shoot. Keith often fell victim to Lance’s needs of a hair and makeup model during these times, because so far, everything screamed Lance. And damn did it look good on Keith. 

What didn’t look good was when Keith moved forward, the loose collar stretching out and lowering over his chest. There was a sick looking bruise over his sternum, yellows, purples, greens, and molten red. It looked like someone had punched him repeatedly in different spots of the same area. He noticed then, that when Keith moved his left hand out too quickly, he hissed quietly, more to himself than anyone.

There was a bruise, on his lover’s chest no less. Harsh, long, and most importantly, new. Shiro opened his mouth to comment. “Kei-“

“Hello my lovelies!! Lance called while he walked into the door. He was holding a package of products from his shift, sighing as he jiggled at the doorframe. “Keith. Babe. I care for you but if you get your key jammed in the door one more time I’m going to bury you six feet under while still alive. You can see the dent your shoe left!”

Shiro could hear Lance wrenching the key from the lock and tossing it on the kitchen counter. 

Huh, now Shiro knew why Keith had yelled when he burst through the door. He kicked the thing open.

He heard a pile of stuff drop to the floor, and he could feel Lance’s impending stares as he stopped mid-walk, seeing the position of his two boyfriends in the living room while a Netflix documentary ran in the background. 

Keith and Shiro turned too look at Lance, watching Lance blink almost hungrily if he wasn’t so hurt. “How dare you start without me, a-and with your make-up still on no less! You know Shiro doesn’t appreciate it when lipstick gets on his dick! No matter how neutral the tone!”

“Actually, Lance, that’s you. And only because you think it’s a waste.” Keith retorted.

Shiro gulped, hand tightening on his mug while he glanced down at Keith. The other boy’s gloved hands (those still hadn’t come off during the shoot?) were placed on his hips, while another worked Shiro out of one of his leg holes.

Shiro almost tripped out of them if Keith hadn’t been there for the support. 

“And fun as that would be right now, Lance, I don’t think Shiro would enjoy his dick being sucked with a third degree burn.” Keith voiced his concerns, eyeing the vibrant patch of red over Shiro’s thighs. He moved his hands over the burn, close but never touching.

“What? What happened?” Lance ran into the living room, jumping over and standing on the couch. He placed his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, bending forward to look closely at what happened. 

Shiro flushed.

“Ooft, that’s not good.” Lance mumbled, but Keith seemed to shrug. 

“It’s not too severe. Nothing that needs a hospital anyway. I’d say he should go sit under cold water, and then put a bag of ice on it.” He eyed Lance as he said this. “Wrap it in a towel first- ice can never go directly on a burn.” Lance nodded. He jumped off the couch, still holding Shiro’s shoulders. They directed him into the bathroom, turning on the water and helping him out of his briefs while Keith cleaned up the mess in the living room.

Shiro sat down on the edge of the bathtub, using a cold cloth for one side of his legs, while Lance focused on the other side. 

Keith eventually joined them in the bathroom after starting a load of Shiro’s dirty wash. He quickly made himself useful by rummaging through the cabinet behind the mirror before finding what he wanted. He took out the bottle and offered two little advil tablets alongside a glass of water for Shiro. The military man gave his thanks and dipped his head back to force himself to swallow the pills. 

Even after all these years, Shiro admitted that he still had trouble swallowing.

Keith watched, making sure everything went well. He relaxed a little when Shiro didn’t seem to start choking. “I can go out and get some aloe vera or some other ointment. We don’t have anything for burns here.” He said towards Lance and Shiro.

Shiro nodded and gave them both a small smile, a little embarrassed by all the attention. He could do this by himself, he didn’t need to worry his boyfriends-

“Stop right there.” Keith demanded, arms crossed. He settled above Shiro, eyeing him with confidence. “Don’t you dare feel bad about this.” He said with a pointed finger. “We know you could handle this all fine and well on your own, but that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? …. To help you out?” Keith’s voice broke at the end of the sentence, sounding uncertain about his word choice. 

Lance nodded heavily, interrupting Keith. “Yeah, exactly! We’re here, so just let us take care of you. It was my miso soup that did you in, anyways.” Lance teased with a wink, rinsing out the towel to add some more cold water to it. 

“Thanks guys.” Shiro said, relaxing on the edge of the tub. He felt Keith come by and kiss his cheek and simultaneously squeeze Lance’s hand on Shiro’s thigh.

“Okay, I’ll go to the pharmacy. I’ll also pick up something for dinner, since we’re all apparently here and Shiro screwed himself up. Any suggestions?” 

Shiro offered 'sandwiches?’ the same time Lance said, ‘a forty of vodka.’ 

“Noted.” Keith laughed as he left the bathroom. “Set him up on the couch for when I get back, blanket, documentary, Sudoku, and all, alright?” Keith called from the other room. Shiro could hear him slipping on his shoes. 

He hadn’t even taken off the choker or makeup yet. Keith was going to have a field day out there, yelling back at homophobic pricks who couldn’t mind their damned business.

Shiro prayed that Keith wouldn’t meet up with anyone like that this evening. 

“Gotcha!” Lance called back. “I’ll even suck his cock too since I missed the second degree burn perfection of your first time without me!” 

“Fuck you, Lance!” Keith called lovingly as he closed the door. 

“You would love to!” Lance called back, right in Shiro’s ear. 

Shiro just had his face in his palms…. How were these his boyfriends? 

Lance turned back with a grin before looking inquisitive at Shiro’s thighs.

“So, it’s been a while and the burns are looking a little less red. Let’s get you settled on the couch for some relaxation time before Keith comes back.” Lance moved from the ledge to get up, the cold cloth bundled in his hands. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, some glitter from his day still embedded in his skin and clothes that sprinkled on the floor. He looked tired, always the one to put up the energetic, confident front for everyone else. 

It could be bothersome for Shiro to watch. Shiro and Keith both knew that it was Lance who honestly had the least amount of confidence, even though he was such a hard working and beautiful man. They were lucky to have him.

“Oh yah,” Shiro said, reaching for Lance. Shiro always tried to give Lance some sort of self-esteem boost, since Lance could often overlook or downplay his own hard work and dedication. The kid was an artist, and he didn’t ever see it. “Good job on Keith today, by the way. He looked really, really good. I know that was all you, Lance.”

Lane stalled, turning with a hidden smile. “Thanks, Shiro. I know it takes a lot to make someone like Keith look good on camera.” He said dryly with an eye roll. 

“It’s true, though. Give yourself some credit. Everything works together and colours have to blend well. And with someone like Keith, you really brought out the violet of his eyes. It was emphasized by the make-up and hair you did.” 

Lance nodded now embarrassed. He didn’t know what to say.

Shiro knew when enough was enough, drawing back. “But anyways, I just had to say good job, buddy. I can’t wait to see the shoot.”

But honestly, whenever Lance had a way with their clothes, they usually looked 10x better then before…. even if they fought tooth and nail. Loudly. It was a hard factor to accept at first; their ways of shopping were too horrific and Lance had fashion down to a science. They really should just let Lance have at it with all their wardrobes.

“I was wondering, though,” Shiro said thoughtfully, reaching for a clean pair of briefs Keith left him on the toilet. “Why did you put makeup on his chest? Seems like an odd area for a hair shoot or if he was wearing a high collar like last time.” 

Lance held his jaw in hands in thought. “Make-up? On his chest? No, not this time. If I ever do put makeup there, it’s to bring out his natural colours, or draw out his collarbones. I wouldn’t put darker shades there. And besides, Keith was vehement against going shirtless today, which is super odd; he loves going shirtless for shoots, or at all. It’s so- its just- did you say _make-up_ on his _chest_?” Lance yelled, frazzled. Shiro had the audacity to at least appear guilty.

“Yah, I thought that’s what it was. I guess it was just a bruise, then?”

“On his chest?! How big was this thing?” 

“Uhm- about the size of my palm? But longer. Maybe thinner.” Shiro thought out loud. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to go shirtless.”

Lance’s jaw dropped comically. “Ohhmygod, you’re right Shiro!” He threw his hands around dramatically to emphasize his points. He almost hit the bathroom mirror as he did so.

“He was just so against it today! I’ve never seen him so upset at the thought of taking his shirt off before, and I was just like, ‘ _awh, babe, you’re hot, not worries_!’ That’s what I said, Shiro. Those exact words. Fuck! I’m a horrible boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not Lance. Keith is just going through something, and he’s hiding it for some reason.”

“Can we-“ 

“No we can’t force him. But we do need out figure out what’s going on. Because I’ve hit a wall for options.” Shiro admitted. 

Lance sat back down on he ledge, picking at a loose piece of thread on his dark jeans. He seemed to be running through the issues in his head. “So Keith is coming home with a lot of bruises, limps, and cuts.”

Okay so maybe he was running the issues out loud then. 

“He sometimes looks dazed and immediately goes to sleep when he sneaks in super late at night. He leaves late in the evening, rain or shine, and doesn’t come back until ungodly hours in the morning. And then when he does come back, he arrives with said physical imperfections! And no offence, but his sex drive has been lacking lately-“

“Lacking?” Shiro joked, a little sad at the thought. Lance rolled his eyes, muttering, “nonexistent then, whatever." 

As much as Keith loved to tease, he hadn’t exactly had the energy for anything more than a small make-out session, or maybe a quick blow job if they were lucky. Anytime the others became close to taking his shirt off, he’d back off, pretend he was tired or had a headache.

There had been a multitude of reasons why he couldn’t go clothes-less.

It wasn’t that the sex was needed, it never was, but it was nice every now and then. Then again, at this point Shiro would be okay with a super intense cuddle session, which even seemed like a bit too close for Keith at this point. 

It was just- Lance and Shiro were missing him. A lot. 

Lance seemed to be deep in thought when he went rigid, mouth and eyes wide open, pointing at Shiro.

“Oh mygod, Shiro, is he prostituting himself? Do you think he’s prostituting himself? Shiro is our boyfriend prostituting himself because I kind of think he’s prostituting himself- Ohmygod Shiro our boyfriend of three months is prostituting himself! Do we not give it good enough or-”

“Lance!” Shiro yelled, baffled. “Keith is not prostituting himself. There’s just something else going on that he’s not ready to talk to us about yet…”

He could hear a whispered, ‘ _so we don’t give it good enough_ …’ muttered under Lance’s breath.

“So can we force him?” 

“No Lance.”

“Oh, honeysuckles…”

Shiro turned away from the water and dried himself off, putting on the briefs and loose shorts Keith left him. Shiro stretched as he lifted up from the side of the tub. The two were quiet as they made their way over the couch, the only sound being Shiros sigh.

They got comfy on the couch, doing exactly as Keith had said. And when he got back, he had his arms full of food and a wide smile on his face.

Keith applied the burning cream onto Shiro’s thighs gently, easing him into the pain. He patted Shiro when he was done, moving himself onto the other side of Lance and bringing his knees up to his chest. 

They ignored how he seemed to withdraw when Lance tried to put a hand over his shoulder, wincing a bit as he flinched from the palm on his chest. Lance pulled back, admitting a small sorry and tucked himself closer to Shiro, hurt. 

Keith seemed just as guilty on the other side of the couch, beginning to fall asleep against the armrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at one point the prostitution rant of Lances at the end was going to be the summary of this fic :'D  
> next time its Lancey Lance's pov ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ   
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is sure Keith is cheating and goes through his own methods to try and figure out whats up.   
> I dont have a beta, so let me know if there are any mistakes! I'd really appreciate it!  
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Until next time!

Lance found make up in one of Keith’s bathroom drawers. To be more specific, Lance found _Lance’_ s old makeup in one of Keith’ bathroom drawers. His own makeup… That he thought he threw out a month prior… Now recently used… In Keith’s drawers.

 _Newly used._ _In Keith’s drawer._  

Lance could not begin to express his confusion. 

Now in his defense, Lance had his drawer full of shit right above Keith’s; sometimes that shit would fall behind or into the drawer below. Like his beloved blue eyeliner, that he had only worn once, but it was still beloved. Lance was taking a break from studying for his midterms with a sudden impulse for creativity. He wanted to try out a new idea for a makeup ad for the studio, using vibrant blues. 

He realized this was a fashion catastrophe in his own right, due to the fact that you just cant wear bright summer blue in the middle of fall.

It just didn’t happen.

But he could plan for next summer. 

Also, everyone needs a break when it comes to studying. If his break included his professional life than Lance could say he was on the right track.

But hitherto his most recent problem: he found his makeup in Keith’s drawer. Of course his blue eyeliner wasn’t there, but that was a minor problem in comparison. 

Lance was an esthetician and part-time hairdresser at a studio downtown. It was one of the more popular studios in the area, and while Lance loved the aspect of creating art on someone’s body, it wasn’t what his parents hoped for him long term. And Lance was nothing if not pleasing to his parents, even if it meant giving up on his dream job for a while. He loved working in a studio, he really did. Lance excelled when it came to the public. And he was an extrovert, he thrived by talking to people all day, but still. But his parents were right, he had a future to think of, boyfriends he wanted to see more. His schedule didn’t allow him to see them often, having to typically work well into the evenings with his 10+ shifts.

Even before meeting Keith and Shiro, Lance had begun wondering if this would be his life, his parents constantly unimpressed with his ‘gay’ choice of a profession, as they so kindly put it. 

So, he thought, and he thought, and he met Keith and Shiro and it was decided. Lance listened to his parents and agreed to go back to school for massage therapy, while still working where he wanted.

And massage therapy wasn’t bad, had even been an interest of Lance’s when he first graduated High School. He excelled in pampering and loved biology. Depending on where he was based, if there were benefits, better hours, time off, he could still work with people, but he could also use his mind. And it still had to do with aiding the body.

Lance guessed he okay with that for a short while, long enough to make his parents get off his back, and eventually go back to his first love. Giving massage therapy the good ole’ college try, and who knows maybe he would fall in love it with. 

And having another skill set was never a horrible thing. 

But working a part-time job, having two full-time, beautiful, live-in roommate boyfriends, and going to school was rough. 

Life was so rough right now, man. 

It was halfway through mid-term week, and Lance luckily only had two shifts earlier on in the week to spend the rest of the time studying, but something was bothering him. 

There were bruises on his boyfriend. In more private of places, except for y’know, the elbow, and facial marrings, but still. In more secret of the places there were bruises on his boyfriend.

That weren’t made sexily by Lance OR Shiro!

And Keith had Lance’s makeup. 

Lance groaned loudly, head slamming into his textbooks on the table. He could feel his cup of coffee shaking while he dropped his pencil.

…. His boyfriend was totally screwing someone else. Maybe not for money, so prostitution was out the window, but Keith must be screwing someone else. It just had to be the reason for such bizarre behaviour.

And the other day after he came back with the burn cream? And he flinched out of Lance’s arms to shy away into the side of the couch? 

That wasn’t- it was just so-

It just wasn’t Keith alright!

The door opened with a creak, and- speak of the devil – it was none other than Keith to stick his head in as he closed it, arms full of groceries. There was a tension Lance felt in his chest, an array of conflicted emotions. He cared for Keith, really, truly did. But did Keith care for them? Was this all an act for somewhere to live?

He watched the other struggle as he pulled the heavier two of the five grocery bags on the counter. Oh yeah, Lance was supposed to help with that. 

The Cuban sighed loudly, flicking his rolling pencil away as he made stood up from his chair. 

“Oh no, man, I got it.” Keith said with a smile. “You’re studying. I can cook tonight.”

Lance whined. Keith was trying so hard to be helpful lately. But he might be cheating. Was it to get Lance to look the other way? Was it genuine? Confliction!

“But Keithhhh, what else am I to do? I’ve been studying for hours.” He complained like a chastised child. 

Keith ignored his boyfriend’s whines and began putting away the groceries. “I bought your favourite cereal, by the way.” Keith shook the box loudly, and Lance couldn’t keep the grin of his face even if _confliction_ was eating him alive. “Oh fuck yes, I’ve been craving it so hard.” 

Lance almost missed the snort his boyfriend made at his words. He was too busy staring at the box of crunchy goodness.

Keith shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’re such a health nut, how do you like something so sugary?” Keith turned away, putting the box into the cupboard.

“Everyone has their vices.” Lance said, watching the small tick of Keith’s hand. They stilled, and then tucked into a fist.

“Yeah. I guess they do.” 

Silence filled the room as Keith took a long drink of water, awkwardness rising in Lance’s mind. 

He looked back at his textbook and exam questions he’d printed out. Guess he could test some theories out…

“Hey, Keith. I was wondering if you could help me study?”

Keith turned, seemingly a little surprised. He quickly nodded, walking over to the table that looked less like a table and more like a mishap of Lance’s papers. 

He looked around at all the various study cards, textbooks, and exam guidelines.

His hands hovered over everything, not sure what to pick up first.

Lance giggled at his boyfriend’s concerned contemplation. Lance decided to play it nice and offer him the multipage fake exam he was currently working on. 

“Just use this one and ask me questions at random.” 

“So don’t go in order?”

“What asking questions in random usually means.” Lance joked with a tired sigh. Damn, he needed some damned coffee. Or cereal.

He was a grown ass adult. He could eat cereal for dinner if he wanted, right?

Keith was silent as he flipped through the pages, eyes running haphazardly over the lengthy questions sheet. He seemed to settle on one, and cleared his throat.

“What is a professional way of interviewing your client-“

“Go over the information sheet they filled our before starting. Easy, next.” 

Keith stalled with a bite of his lip, eyes narrowing. “If you hear a rumour that one of your colleagues has been acting inappropriately with clients-“

“Exam wants me to say inform your supervisor immediately. Easy. I want something with depth here! Which bone would you palpate the origin of the pectoralis minor, or what’s a common skin disorder from allergies, bacteria, or fungus infection. Come onnnn, Keith!”

Keith smirked, flipping the page with a taunting eye. “Okay, you asked for it.” 

They studied for a half hour, Keith repeating only questions about Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology, since Lance seemed to have the business side down.

Lance surprised himself with getting well over 65 of the 80 questions correct. He still had two days of studying to do, feeling a little better at his own standing.

“Okay,” Keith said, grabbing at another exam. “This one says Practical, and it’s just a bunch of rules and areas you’ll be marked. How do you want me question you for this?”

Lance sighed, really not wanting to do this one. The practical exam was a practice for the actual process of the massage. He would sit in with an instructor and pretend they were a client. They would run through the interview questions Lance was supposed to ask before offering a demonstration of his skills thus far. He felt okay with oil application and general rhythm and pressure transitions, even the Swedish massaged he needed to learn he felt somewhat confident with; he was more worried about vibrations and triggerpoint work, having not understood the technique quite yet. 

Lance was honestly hoping to just get the written exam out of the way first since that was on Monday, and pull an all nighter for the following practical on Tuesday.

Then again, he was doing okay on the written, so maybe practicing a bit for the practical was a good idea. 

“I have to give you a massage.” 

Keith nodded. “Need any help with the set up?” 

Lance tiredly mumbled a yes, and after arranging oils, towelettes, and cloths, Keith started to undress and sit on Lance’s massage table that took up the side of their living room.

Lance watched from the corner of his eye, something deep within becoming possessive and heated. Keith was their boyfriend. No one else’s. Keith above anyone else should know that, and Lance wouldn’t tolerate cheating, even if it broke his heart to think about. Keith, on his back, spreading those lean, muscular legs for someone else. Keith, immediately shifting to cuddle afterwards like a koala in the afterglow. Keith, who would always be the first one up and making coffee the day after. Who always gave the best forehead kisses (sorry Shiro). Who, even if he argued to his dying day, would always drop everything to help Lance and Shiro at a moments notice. Keith, who hated makeup and hairspray, would spend hours in a salon chair just because Lance had asked. 

Keith, who he was fall-

No. Lance had midterms and work to think of first. Not the probable aspect that Keith was fucking someone.

Lance turned on some random music playlist for the background, something that looked soft and gentle on spotify. He began dripping some oil on his hands.

“You’ll feel a bit of cold, okay?”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement.

They had skipped the interview portion since Keith couldn’t act a day in his life and Lance knew Shiro could, saving his own massage for later.

Lance realized his mistake when he moved his oiled hand to remove Keith’s towel from around his shoulders and back. 

Right, that was supposed to happen first. So, he didn’t retract his mistaken now, making a mental note of it as to not allow it to happen during the exam. 

Lance gently removed the blanket, tightening it around his waist. He moved to put the oil on Keith’s typically porcelain skin, and he finally took a real look. He stalled in shock as he saw the literal spots of his makeup badly rubbed into Keith’s skin, and what looked to be a dark array of bruises hidden underneath.

It was obvious because that was makeup for Lance’s skin tone, not Keith’s. Lance stared with wide eyes, realizing how long he’d been staring as Keith began to shift in confusion.

“You okay, Lance?” He asked, moving his head from his arms. 

“Uh, uh yeah. I just got nervous.” 

“You? Nervous? Wow this course must be doing something to you.” Keith tried to tease, usually the push Lance needed. It worked, because Lance bristled and decided to begin, rubbing the cold lotion over the others back. Keith hissed and tensed underneath the long fingers.

“Don’t back talk when I’m the one in control.” Lance could hear the eyeroll. He tried to focus, he really did, but as he soaked the lotion in the spots of makeup it began to smudge off, making way for the obvious large bruises. 

Did Keith not realize he still had makeup on? Or that there were bruises? Because this was the most naked he’d seen Keith in over a month.

There weren’t many, just spots along his hips and lower back, and some on the top of his shoulder. It could have just been a bad fall. But for Keith to go a far as to try and hide it with makeup? 

But it didn’t look like the typical bruises made from sex. 

Lance pretended that they didn’t exist for now, only making sure to go gentle over the darker areas. 

Lance started around the shoulders, where Keith kept most of his tension. There were deep bundles of knots, Lance having to transition to a deeper push, trying to get the knots out.

Keith sighed deeply as Lance pulled at the knots, pressing further and further into the tense joints. Keith grumbled, making Lance want to laugh. The bruises though. The line of bruises were getting to him. Maybe they didn’t look like they could be made from sex, but they may very well be. What do sex bruises have that other bruises wouldn’t? They all look pretty much the same after the fact. 

Lance decided to do a little digging. 

“Sooo, any issues?”

“Hmm?” Keith groaned. “Nooo.” He sighed in pure bliss. “You’re doing great.”

Oh, yeah. This massage was for his practical. Right. 

“Uhm, not exactly what I meant...” 

Keith shifted under Lance’s hands. “Like what, then?” He asked.

Lance jumped from foot to foot, trying to weight his options. “Like, with us? You good with everything man? Anything I could do better?”

Keith seemed to give it an honest once over. “Uhmmm. Honestly?” He said with a tone of worry.

“Yeah, yeah! Total honesty here man. Completely 100%!”

“Okay… Don’t be hurt, but I’m not a fan of cilantro, and you use that shit like it’s butter.”

“Oh.” Lance said, trying not to be hurt. That wasn’t what he was expecting. 

“I’m sorry.” Keith said with a bit lip. 

Lance ran his hands over his spine, pressing against it as he made his way along either side of the arch. Keith really seemed to like that one. “No, no. Don’t be sorry. I just, I wish you said something earlier.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement, but Lance could hear the confusion rolling in his thought. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about, Lance?”

Lance paused. _I’d like to know the fucker whose screwing my boyfriend. Or maybe not screwing, but at least hurt him._  

“I don’t actually. But that also wasn’t what I meant. I was thinking more along the lines, of, y’know… our sexlifeeee???” 

Keith stopped moaning from Lance’ hands alone. It took him a few moments once again before answering. It was rather shocking. Keith had always been a ‘talk-before-you-think’ type of guy. Maybe this mind-blowing massage was doing things to his psyche. 

“No? I don’t think so right now. I can think about out it, though, if it’s been on your mind. But why? Do you have any issues?”

“What!” Lance yelled as he pulled his hands back. He didn’t expect that sudden turn around. He shook his head viciously. “No, I’m good! Fantastic even. I was just wondering about you.”

“Just about me?”

“Uhhh-“ Lance side eyed himself, suddenly grabbing at a knot in Keith’s rhomboid muscle and quickly using a new method his professors were teaching wherein he would shake his arm to create lengthy vibrations. It was hard, but it worked wonders in the shoulder area with this specific knot. He heard Keith groan in pleasure once again, head falling back down as his question slipped away from his mind. 

“So you think we’re all okay?”

“Huh?” Keith mumbled.

“So you think our sex is good.” 

He can feel Keith’s muscles tense in thought. “…. Yeah? I mean, I’ve never had a problem with it. It was a little weird at the beginning with so many bodies, but we got the hang of it eventually.” 

Lance couldn’t help the smile over his face. “Yeah, yeah we did.” He hummed, thinking back to the good times.

“Lance? You kind of stopped moving. I’m personally fine, but if I were a paying customer I probably wouldn’t be so happy right now”.

“Oh, shit, right!” Lance yelled, getting back to work placing pressure downwards onto rhomboid region. 

He tended to a few more areas, digging closer towards the muscle that was much too bruised, broken down, and in a state of ill repair for a part time mechanic.

Lance thought over this, reaching for his lotion and dripping it over his fingers. He rubbed until it was heated, running the liquid over Keith’s lower back, drawing closer and closer to the bruises. 

“Is there anything you want to do or try?” Lance figured he’d bring it up now, because damn if this wasn’t getting to him.

He could feel Keith thinking as his fingertips massaged over heated skin.

Keith offered a hum. “I kind of want to try more shower sex, or maybe wall sex? But I really just like the times when it happens naturally and slowly. Where we just start kissing, hands start moving and it just gets so hot so fast, y’know? And all of a sudden, there’s something pressing slowly into you and you let it take over. I- I really enjoy those nights.” 

Lance hummed in agreement. The slow and the steady were some of the best nights. But Lance always thought it was Shiro who craved those nights the most, not Keith.

“Vanilla, huh? I figured you to be a BDSM type of guy. Secretly likes getting tied up, put in his place.”

Keith stuttered. “U-uh, I mean, we can try that, I guess. I know you really like it when it was done to you. I guess- I guess I can try.”

Lance rubbed around the latissimus dorsi muscle in thought. Yeah, Lance loved that kind of thing. Being pressed down by two hot guys, all your control taken away as you let them just take care of you, take what they want at the same time. It offered a thrill to Lance, something he enjoyed yet never craved intensely. 

He could see Keith eventually coming to craving it, the kid needing to understand that his boyfriends could take care of him every now and then. He’d never really had that before.

Someone should prove it now.

His hands lowered, brushing carefully over the first set of bruises.

Keith hissed as he pressed too much inwards and Lance was about to offer an honest apology but his worry overshadowed the guilt. 

“Sorry, man. I’m trying to keep away from the bruises but there’s so many of them." 

Keith didn’t respond, his own confusion making Lance tense up.

Lance grazed over the spotted bruises along his hip in thought. 

“How’d you get the bruises anyway?”

Keith moved his head to the side, eying Lance with a single glare.

“What bruises?” He asked.

Oh, so he’s playing a game huh. Well, two could play at that game. Lance poured some more oil over his hand, pressing deeply into the alignment of molten colours along his backside and hip. Keith hissed, body naturally shimming away from the pain.

“Lance, no offence. But if this took place in an exam I think you’d be failing right about now.” He growled through a bit lip.

Lance pressed further into the bruise, knowing he was only doing more damage than good at this point. 

“Then tell me where these bruises come from?” Lance asked again, all kindness from his voice drained. 

“I don’t know.”

Lance shook his head, feeling wetness along the rim of his eye. Lance choked out a laugh, worry catching in his throat. “Y’know, with how much you’ve been out lately, I’d almost say that you were sleeping around without us. Imagine that! Isn’t that just a hilarious, not at all accurate thought!” He said, trying to play it off but failing miserably. 

“Yah, that _is_ hilarious.” Keith breathed, his fists bundled tightly together, trying to push past the blunt pain. “The only thing I’m on my back and spreading my legs for is Tyrell at the shop, having me busting my ass fixing cars underneath the engines.” Keith growled, fingers twitching.

Lance hummed.

Keith couldn’t lie to save his life, so Lance could only assume he was telling the truth.

“D-did you think I was cheating on you?” Lance heard Keith mutter, voice small and eyes now turned away.

Lance moved directly away from the bruises, pushing and pulling up the man’s spine. He groaned from pleasure again, body wrung tight. “ _Lance_?” 

“I’m not going to lie, Keith. But yes, lately I’ve had that assumption." 

“But why-“

“Because you’re coming back late every night. You arrive with a new random assortment of bruises and you’re pain. You’re not wanting to be touched again. I can’t even remember the last time I even saw you close to being naked. I’m surprised you even let me massage you now.”

Keith became quiet. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He offered. He turned, reaching for Lance’s hand and squeezing. “Really, I am sorry. You have to know that.” He pleaded. 

“Keith, I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Keith turned around completely, lifting his torso from the table. He laid his muscular legs over the edge carefully, the towel somehow still covering his nether regions. He reached for Lance, pulling the taller boy into a strong hug. Lance’s face snuggled into his admittedly greasy hair while Keith rubbed his arms around Lance’s neck. He inhaled the scent, the authentic and heated smell of Lance coming forth, Keith relishing the feeling of it. He relaxed under the touch.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He started carefully as he rubbed at Lance’s back in comfort. “You don’t deserve it, especially right now during your exams that you’re only taking to appease your parents. Fuck, you’re so good, and so kind, and I just-You should be focusing on your studies and work right now. Not me. Not ever me. I’m fine, I’m always fine. I promise.” 

“Doth do protest too much.”

“Lance.” Keith said harshly.

“I care for you alright? I just don’t want anything to happen…. Sorry for jumping to the wrong conclusion, though. I should have realized by now that you’re too much of a stubborn and loyal prick to ever cheat on us.”

He could feel Keith smile against his neck, the hot breath tickling the hairs. 

“I care for you too and I’m sorry for worrying you. But I promise I’m fine. Don’t worry about me…. Worry about this exam coming up. If this happens during the practicum I think you’ll dropped from the program." 

“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” Lance asked slyly. Keith moved so his lips hovered just over Lance’s, so close and yet so far.

“Well, you damaged my already damaged capillaries. You definitely eyed me up when I turned over, and now you’re here, between my legs begging for me to kiss you.”

That bastard. Lance opened his mouth in retort only to have Keith press himself completely against Lance. They kissed opened mouth as Keith ran his hands around Lance’s waist, pulling him closer. Lance pulled his own hands around Keith’s neck tightly, deepening the kiss with a moan.

When Keith pulled away, pupils wide with want, he licked his lips. “Yeah, you’d definitely be kicked out with moves like that.” He teased.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance laughed quietly, nipping at Keith’s lips gently. 

Keith groaned, pushing Lance away at his chest.

Lance kept the other an arms length away, still holding onto the bare skin.

“Alright, alright. As much fun as I’m having, I’d love to do this clean- meaning no oil on me.” His eyes darted left and right in question. 

They finally settled on the bathroom, jumping from the table and dashing towards the opened door. Keith pulled Lance with him, making note of how the Cuban boy’s eyes grew heated when the small blanket fell from his narrow waist.

There were other spots of makeup along his chest that dripped in streams between them from the steam, but Lance couldn’t even think with his arm full of Keith, scent full of Keith, surrounding full of Keith. Keith was everywhere, hushing Lance’s growing moans. They pressed into each other while the steam blanketed around them, keeping the world away as everything euphoric took over.

The came nearly at the same time, Keith bringing Lance over the edge before falling over the edge himself. 

The fell to the bathtub’s floor, hands running over each other in bliss while the shower’s water fell from above. Lance sat against the back edge, Keith in his arms and staring at him.

Lance rubbed Keith’s jaw with such kindness, never believing he could have something this. 

When they finished and cleaned up, Lance hadn’t even noticed how Keith kept his gloves on, the wrap of dirty bandages running from his wrists to fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A kudos or comment is always appreciated, and definitely gets my butt into writing again xD


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been kicking my ass. I haven't been writing. Sorry for the extremely late update. I hope you enjoy

4

 

Technically, they had all met online. Great way to meet someone, right? Well it was more common than they thought.

The three had been searching for separate housing, when an ad popped up on craigslist for an open house in an unfurnished two bedroom apartment uptown. Nice area, had laundry, close to public transport, and a gym. It was a little on the pricier side, but if the cost was to be split between 2-3 people, it’d be perfect. 

After having so many people apply to visit the open house, the owner created a random pool. Anyone who had put in their names for the open house were placed into the pool and were to be picked in groups of five to state what time their visit was.

It turned out to not be an open house at all. The owner drafted a schedule, emailing the list to everyone, and asking if they could reply to make sure they could confirm their times.

Shiro, Lance, and Keith had ended up in the same time slot. Lance and Keith also ended up confirming throughout the entire email, rather than just emailing the owner privately (honest mistake).

Lance had immediately complained after opening Keith’s confirmation, saying ‘Hey Buddy, that was meant for the OP, not us. Double check who you click next time so we don’t all get a useless email!”

Keith seemed to respond in kind. “srry, after opening ur email of confirmation to the owner, I thought it was common practice. But if u found my email so annoying, ur not the only one…. reap what you sow, ‘Buddy’.’

The owner didn’t seem to notice nor care for their continuing emails that persisted on, until Shiro interjected when Iverson gave him ‘the look’ after his phone had gone off for the fourth time during stimulator pilot training for the younger cadets. It was completely unprofessional.

The day came quicker than expected, and when his time slot arrived, Shiro entered the room a little shaken, not sure what to expect. Shiro hadn’t been sure which ones were Lance and Keith, but he was interested in seeing them nonetheless, if their animated conversation was anything to go by.

Lance was obviously Lance the moment Shiro laid eyes on him. Shiro walked into the room to see the lean man chatting up the two other ladies in the group. He talked the way he writes, Shiro thought. The boy had been tall, and had a beauty and charisma that the eye was naturally drawn towards. It was a nice presence to be around. Content, almost.

Shiro could admit, though, that he had been a little disappointed when the open house was about to start and the mysterious Keith hadn’t yet arrived. Luckily, the realtor had forgotten some other paperwork in another room, quickly running to grab it when the door was thrown open, a frazzled-trying-not-to-be-frazzled biker dude behind it’s wooden depths. He was panting heavily. Lance immediately chewed him out, Keith responded with nonchalance, patting down his hair and moving his helmet to his hip.

He eyed Shiro pleasantly, nodding his head towards Shiro’s general direction.

“You’re late.” Shiro joked. “Keith? I’m guessing?” Shiro offered an outstretched hand, glad when Keith shook it in turn. “Yeah, Keith. You must be Shiro, huh? Thanks for stopping the emails from going on too long. I was hoping bad grammar would back him off, not egg him on.” Shiro opened his mouth to respond when he felt a hand slap his shoulder.

“Bad grammar needs to be dealt with here, Keefy-boy. No one has time to deal with lazy losers who can’t figure out how to use the oxford comma…. Or the difference between the word ‘you’ and the letter ‘u’…” Lance shoved his way onto Shiro’s left side, immediately winking at Shiro and half snarling/half smiling towards Keith. It was honesty the strangest meeting.

“You know what? I don’t know the difference, maybe you should explain it to me.”

“I would love to! ‘U’ is a letter that comes after ‘T’. ‘You’ are someone I’d love to bend over and shove it where it hurts.”

Keih crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Kinky.”

Lance was just about to make a fuss when the realtor came back in, suggesting to start the tour.

The tour itself didn’t last long, the layout simple and normal enough to run through quickly. However, Lance and Keith’s bickering did last long, and Shiro was amazed by their wittiness and quick backfires. It was amazing. Watching how quickly they could shoot verbal fire at someone they barely knew? Incredible, but Shiro doubted he could ever be that mean.

They seemed to gravitate towards the bigger man, asking him a question or two here and there between the realtor’s information of each area.

After the tour, they each filled out an application. Shiro noticed Lance’s curvaceous handwriting, while Keith jutted his information as quickly as possible. His writing appeared more like a doctors, not completely readable to begin with, but somewhat legible. The lettering had definitely been English, at least.

Shiro handed in his application, the blond realtor giving him a once over with a teasing smile. She brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ears, even going as far as pushing out her chest. 

“You handle them well.” She noted. 

Shiro blanked. “I’m sorry?”

“Those two boys. You even talked them down during the emails. Thanks for the help, by the way. It’s always nice when someone else takes in the reigns and gets people to listen once in a while.”

Shiro, no longer used to being flirted with, could only awkwardly nod. “It was no problem.” He tried to wave off, face flushing. “They were making my phone go off at work, anyways. My Boss was having none of it.” Shiro tried to laugh, but the woman only seemed more interested.

Oh god….

“And what do you do?” She asked behind a coy smile. The red lipstick she wore had smeared a little on her tooth, and Shiro didn’t know if he had the heart to tell her.

“I might not know what he’s doing but I think I might know what I’m doing later!” Lance jumped in, saving the day. He handed in his application, Keith in silent tow, while giving a wink to the woman. She frowned.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, my buddy Shiro here might not be doing anything, but I think I might know what I’m doing later on tonight.” He grinned, rather disgustingly.

The woman was having none of it, crossing her arms in anger.

“And I suppose you’ll say me?” She answered unamused. She looked deeply uninterested, staring pointedly at the tip of his nose. Shiro could hear Keith snort to himself beside them.

“Damn straight, pretty lady.” He continued, leaning over the counter and grinning further. He moved into her space, eyeing her. “So, what do you say?”

“Uhm,” She looked between Shiro, Lance, and Keith, confused. “I’d say I should get back to work. Another group is coming in soon. Did you last few have any questions about the papers?”

Lance suddenly backed off, smiling. “Nope! None at all, thanks for the time!” 

Keith coughed away a laugh, and Shiro didn’t seem to understand what just happened. The realtor looked quickly through the applications, quickly putting Lance and Keith’s underneath the larger pile.

“Everything looks good here, Mr…” she ran her hands over he application, “Shirogane. If all your tenant references add up, then we should be all good to go. I have a good hunch here. Hopefully you’ll hear from us within the next 3 or so business days.” She stated. There was an interesting balance between professional and flirtation. He didn’t know how she did it.

“Hope so.”

“I do too.”

“Uhhh- Thank you again.” Shiro nodded, feeling Lance or Keith tug him away. He waved a little, turning away as the woman seemed to be picturing him more and more naked as the seconds past by.

They closed the door, Lance and Keith instantly by his side.

“Holy shit, can you say COUGAR!” Lance called out down the hall, laughing. “Man, you better be happy with that place, because I just gave it up to help you.” Lance laughed, getting close to Shiro’s personal space.

“Gave it up?” Shiro questioned. However it wasn’t Lance to reply, but Keith. “Yeah, man. We noticed that you didn’t seem comfortable with how she was coming onto you. I just said we should probably do something and asked Lance if he could use any of his one-liners on her.”

Lance shrugged. “It was honestly genius, dude. I didn’t even realize I was flirting before.” Shiro snorted at the thought, as it had been blatant flirting the moment he arrived into the room.

“Guess it’s just innate now.” Lance laughed. He turned to Shiro, hand outstretched. “Names Lance ‘The Tailor’ McClain.”

“The Tailor?” Keith asked, dumbfounded. 

“Wanted to be a seamstress, turn into a hairdresser and make-up artist, nickname stuck-“ Keith laughed – “And don’t you dare laugh, boy, with the look of those roots and split ends, your hair needs some goddamn revitalizing conditioner. Or a new head. But I’m not going to tell you which one you should use now since you laughed!”

Keith continued to giggle, hand placed rather cutely in front of his face. “No, no, sorry, not laughing at your job. It’s just, you have something like glitter on your nose and it’s shining.”

Lance’s expression of anger morphed into embarrassment, harshly rubbing off the glitter. “I- I had a shoot for the studio I work at last night. Apparently I didn’t clean it off well enough.”

“Finding it in places you didn’t know existed?” Keith teased.

“It’s a goddamn endless pit of glitter, so yes. Yes I am.”

Shiro chuckled, running a hand through his whitened bangs. “That actually reminds me of one time I was out on a mission. There was this sandstorm, and even though I was in my full black-ops gear, sand still ended up in places I never knew existed. It was just like, how did it get there?!” Shiro laughed, his groin region quickly sucking in at the not so nice memory. The clean up had been horrific.

Keith turned his head in interest, blinking at Shiro.

“Black-ops. You a soldier?”

“Officer.” Shiro responded. “Well, ex-soldier. I still train recruits, but I no longer go on missions. Purple Hearts can do that sometimes.” He mumbled, looking down at his metal arm.

Keiths eyes widened but quickly fell back to neutral. “I was actually training to be in the army myself. Got kicked out a few days before we were departing…”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Were your times not enough, or…?” Shiro asked, the ‘did you go against the rules’ was left unsaid. The three walked out of the apartment building. Keith shrugged. “Nah. They found out I was fucking the Chief of Co-ordinations, and relations between cadets and Officers are strictly off limits. Especially if you were gay. Because no one gave a dime when Nancy was caught a few days before I was with the Lieutenant.” 

Shiro stopped Keith, holding his shoulder in his palm.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I thought the army was becoming more progressive, but I guess-“

“Unless you’re in the navy and fucking everyone possible, fucking a man is strictly off limits.”

Lance jumped in front of the two at the comment, obviously upset. “Hey! My brother’s in the navy! And he has a wife and two children and I can promise you, he isn’t cheating!” Lance yelled, making himself present with a smile.

Keith appeared amused. “Sure. That’s what they all say when they have a beard.” Keith winked. 

Lance exhaled. “Honestly, not cool, man. Take it back. He’s my married brother of my beautiful niece and nephew.” 

Keith understood then, that family was important to Lance and not to be undermined. Everyone had there own things. Keith put up his hands, shrugging. “Okay I take it back. But I’m sure he’s been hit on if he looks like you.” Keith said, sticking out his tongue, but Lance seemed to thrive at the attention.

“Hell yeah he has! We look almost exactly alike, except he does have more muscle, like Shiro here,” Lance patted Shiro on his chest with the back of his hand. “He’s just courageous enough not to fall for it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Shiro said, glancing at his watch. It was only half past three. 

Knowing the area, he knew that there were a few good pubs nearby, maybe only a 10-15 minute walk away.

“Hey guys, not to sound to excited, but one of my favourite pubs is just on Johnson avenue, and it’s happy hour. I was wondering if you guys would like to join me.” He offered.

Keith and Lance accepted immediately and the three walked together, chatting almost too easily about their lives.

Keith was a part-time mechanic, and Lance was going to school and working part-time at a hair salon (‘studio, Shiro. Studio’). Shiro mentioned that he was having issues readapting to social life, finding himself missing it. 

It was one of the reasons why he went looking for a two bedroom apartment in the first place. He was hoping to start off simple with a roommate (Lance scoffed, “you call that easing your way in simply?”) and go from there. Keith nodded in understanding, saying how it was the money that brought him looking for a two bedroom. He couldn’t afford a huge place to himself, but, he couldn’t live inside a dorm-like house anymore either. He just couldn’t. He wanted something smaller, more his, but financially okay. It’s what drew him here.

They made it to the pub, each ordering beers and wings and nachos. They sat there long into the night, having nothing to do the next day. They talked and teased like old friends, and Shiro felt more comfortable than he had in a long time.

Shiro was offered to rent a few days later, and immediately sent out an email to two others. The email’s title read, ‘Hey, still looking for a roommate?’

Keith and Lance responded within the hour.

And that’s how they became roommates.

X

Fast forward a year and three and a half months later, and no longer did three random strangers live in the apartment, Lance in one room, Shiro in the master bedroom, and Keith on the couch, but rather lovers. Three men who were falling deeper and deeper everyday into the polyamourous relationship.

Things seemed okay, but it was becoming increasingly obvious just how much money was a big concern for Keith. He’d always been frugal, only spending on what was needed, to a degree. Winter was coming up and Keith didn’t have enough to buy a good coat, instead choosing a cheaper flimsy jacket that he promised would work. Shiro had offered to help out, pay for the jacket or use it as a very early Christmas present, or six month anniversary gift. Those two were somewhat close together in dates.

Keith had politely declined, stating that he didn’t want to take his boyfriends hard earned cash. He’d just save some money from his paychecks, and use that instead. Shiro tried to argue, but Keith made a valid point. It was only the beginning of Fall. He had a few more months to save up before he really needed a new jacket, and there would be more options at that point. It wasn’t the end of the world to not buy something immediately.

That was only one example. Shiro was sure that if they all didn’t pitch in for some food money, Keith would be living off of one dollar noodles or the one dollar menu at McDonalds every other day. When Keith decided he needed to save, it was usually his health and food that would be cut from his life first.

It was a worrisome thought.

They had figured it out after a month or so living together that Keith had no one to fall back on. The lonely kid didn’t seem to have parents or siblings he contacted. He arrived with no pictures to the apartment, only a few belongings, some clothes, some books, two pots, a ridiculously nice but sharp knife, and a bike. Everything Keith owned could be carried on his back, and Shiro didn’t know if he should feel bad or not. Pity was never something he wanted to feel, especially for someone so independent like Keith.

But when it came down to it, the foster system failed him, preparing him little and offering him nothing once he was aged out.

But to Shiro, it was obvious why Keith often lashed out, sometimes fought others in a bar, or went to the gym to punch a bag to take out his aggression. It was a normal reaction for an angered Keith who hadn’t been taught how to handle his emotions.

So at first, Shiro had thought it had just been that- Keith was angry from work or something else, and maybe went too hard at the gym, or secretly got into a bar fight once.

The correlation ended, though, when there were more bruises, and Keith hadn’t ever been angry or emotional as he left late in the evenings.

That lead to now, to a situation which was becoming much more common then Shiro would ever have liked. There was Keith sitting on the toilet, bleeding and upset; Shiro was hovering over him, trying to help. He’d clean his wounds while sitting on the tub surround, hands full of bandages, alcohol wipes, and anti-septics. This time though, whatever was happening was taken too far. Shiro couldn’t repress his own worry and concern anymore.

He held his hands on Keith’s shoulders, trying to gauge Keith’s upset expression.

There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones were accentuated by the light. The kid looked gaunt and stressed, sniffling back to tears that hovered around his red rimmed eyes.

“Keith,” He started. The black haired man didn’t react.

“Whatever is going on, you need to tell us. This can’t keep happening.”

Keith’s shoulders hunched. “I told you, Shiro. I was mugged.”

“Yeah, and Lance’s ass is blue.”

“Well there was that one time-“

“Keith. Not. Now.” Shiro gritted, and Keith tightened his clenched fist.

“You’ve been lying straight to our faces for a full month and a half now. I, for one, have had it. You will tell us what’s going on and you will tell us it now.” Shiro demanded, feeling his Officer façade come to play. His skills took over, relying on military strategy more than himself to speak with his boyfriend. 

Keith wasn’t a soldier. And this wasn’t his work place. But Shiro could feel bad later.

“No!” Keith yelled, standing up. “I told you: I was mugged. That’s what happened, dammit!”

Shiro could see Lance resting with his arms crossed on the side of the bathroom door, half of his body hidden from the line of sight.

He looked like a kid hiding from his arguing parents, scared and concerned.

“Shiro,” Lance tried but Shiro cut him off as Keith tried to leave. Shiro grabbed his good arm, forcing him into a standstill.

“Then you’ve been getting mugged a few times a week then, because those bruises aren’t from work or from motorcycle accidents. I used to teach self-defense, cadet. I know what bruises made from someone else’s hands look like!”

“Shiro-“

Shiro grabbed Keith by his shoulders, pulling him forward and turning him towards the bathroom mirror above the sink.

Keith’s eye immediately ran down towards the floor, and not his own bruised shirtless figure.

“Look, Keith.”

“No.” 

Anger rose and Shiro didn’t know where it was coming from. He reached and grabbed Keith by the chin, forcing him to look at himself. Shiro planted his other hand around Keith’s arms and chest, holding him tight against Shiro’s chest. Keith couldn’t escape if he tried.

“Look, Keith.” The hand holding Keith’s chin dropped, pointing towards a bruise on his sternum. “This was from a few weeks ago. You said you fell up the stairs, but if you look at the bruise and the puncturing of the capillaries here, here, and here, its obvious that it was from something like multiple punches or bumping into something, and not skidding like you said. Or else there would be punctures and scrapes.”

Keith bit his lip, a flush pronounced on his ashamed cheeks.

Shiro pointed to one on his hip. “This bruise is long and a different sort of array of colour. It’s healing at different points. It looks as though you were kicked multiple times. Most likely a foot or ankle would do this.” Shiro stated sternly.

“Alright,” Keith bit out quietly, lowering himself to prove Shiro’s point. “You can stop now.”

Shiro didn’t seem to hear, and instead continued. 

He reached for the side of Keith’s face where his black eye was almost healed. “You said this and the bruise on your cheek was from a motorcycle accident. And this one,” he pointed to the healing split lip, “was from the second one a few nights later.” But you were wearing a helmet. What happened? The helmet flew off and you landed on your face?”

Keith remained quiet, embarrassed and seething. “You can stop now.” He whispered after a moment. He felt Shiro’s hand creep down his arm, lifting his hand and pulling away his glove. 

Keith heard Lance gasp when he turned his head away, but Shiro was quicker. He reached for Keith’s jaw and forced him once again to look into the mirror. Keith growled, moving to get away from Shiro’s larger frame.

“And if you fell, or had an accident on the bike, or had your first mugging a few days ago, then why have you been wearing these gloves for weeks, huh?”

“I told you, they’re for my bike!” 

“Then why are you using them to hide these bruises, Keith! These are knuckle bruises, gained purely when you hit something repeatedly. And for weeks, Keith! You’ve been lying for weeks to hide these. What do you expect we think? What do you expect us to do?!”

Keith’s eyes widened when he stopped moving, meeting Shiro’s blazing eyes in the mirror. Lance could see Keith’s adams apple bob in fear. 

Lance shook his head, realizing what Keith was thinking. “Shiro,” Lance started-

“I get it.” Keith whispered, bare hand cradling his hurt elbow.

“Do you?”

“That’s enough, Shiro.” Lance warned, stepping into the perimeter.

“Do you think we want to see you like this!” Shiro suddenly screamed. Keith and Lance visibly jumped at the tone, Shiro never being the one to yell. They glanced at each other in fear, knowledge of the worst coming. Shiro didn’t notice the concern and continued on his rant. “Do you think we like to see you in pain? Huh? Do you want us to see you hurt?” 

Keith’s shook his head frantically, tears dripping down the edge of his nose while he tried to calm Shiro, prove to him that this wasn’t his intention. This had never been his intention. He was trying to-

“No, no, it wasn’t supposed to, no.” Keith stuttered between coughs. He started breathing harder. Lance made a reach, wanting to calm the two but Shiro stopped him in a moment of rage.

“Then tell us what’s happening!”

“I can’t!” Keith screamed. He tried to tear himself out of Shiro’s grip, but he couldn’t given his injuries.

“And why can’t you? This is a complete breach of trust, Cadet. And you could die out there, you here me? You could die like Sam Holt!”

Keith stopped, breathing in with a gasp. “Lance.” He called in a panic. “Lance!”

“That was an order, Cadet! Answer me!”

“Lance he’s having an episode!”

Lance jumped in immediately, grabbing Shiro’s hands away from Keith. Shiro struggled in Lance’s hands, fighting back. “Let me go, this is complete disrespect and-“

“Shiro you’re having an episode!” Lance yelled. Keith jumped to the corner of the bathroom, staring at the wall as he tried to control his breathing.

“You’re not in the field! You’re not on a mission! You’re at home, with Lance and Keith! You’re okay! You’re okay!” Lance yelled into Shiro’s ear, jumping onto his back instead of being flung around.

Shiro stopped, Lance’s voice of panic bringing him back.

“Oh no,” He whispered, falling to his knees on the ground. He touched his head, a sudden pain exploding behind his temple. “Oh no,” he continued to whisper.

Lance looked towards Keith, checking to make sure his other boyfriend was okay. He was scared, obviously, knees up in a fetal position, laying against the wall. His tears had yet to stop.

He was muttering something, but Lance couldn’t pick up what. He turned back to Shiro, rubbing his back while his own feet made it back down onto solid ground.

“It’s okay, Big Guy. It’s okay.”

Keith eyes tore Shiro into pieces. He finally looked up. His face was beat red and his frame was shaking. He tightened his hands into a fist while he tried to calm his own breathing. 

“Shiro,” Lance stuttered. 

He had a minor episode. He hurt Keith. He’d grabbed him, pointed at his wounds, made him look at things he didn’t want to.

Shiro. Kind, gentle, caring Shiro, had forced Keith into a corner, crying and screaming. 

He looked at his younger boyfriend, huddled and near naked and trembling. Even through the tears, he could tell that Keith was standing his ground, face more angered than fearful.

“Keith, I-“ He made an apologetic reach, but Keith flinched. His hands were over his ears. Now the words had become obvious to Lance.

“I’m fucking everything up…”

“Babe-“ 

At Lance’s pet name Keith jumped up suddenly, like a panther striking their prey after a long wait. He flew out of the door, over the kneeling Shiro and shoving past Lance. He ran towards the bedroom, slamming the door with a bang.

They could hear muffled sobs on the other side.

“You said so yourself, Shiro. He isn’t ready to talk. We can’t force him.”

Shiro’s own hand trembled. “I-I know.” He stuttered, eyes wide. “I-I just, I saw all the bruises. All the pain. The blood. And I just- I-“

Lance turned Shiro around, running his hands over his solid frame and pulling his head down into Lance’s collarbone. Lance kissed just above Shiro’s ear, rubbing his back while Shiro tried to calm down.

“It’s okay, Shiro.” Lance soothed. “I know, I know. You don’t have to say it.”

Lance was all too familiar with Shiro when he had an episode, even minor. Given all things, this flashback was short and ended quickly. It could have been much worse.

For that, Lance could at least be thankful.

Before Shiro knew it, Lance had shuffled them into the living room. He put on a documentary on Netflix, lowering the volume. He made three cups of tea, leaving Keith’s steaming on the counter. 

Lance sat on the far end of the couch, laying Shiro down and having his head in his lap, running his longer, thin hands through the undercut of Shiro’s hair.

“It’ll be okay, Love. It’ll be okay.” He whispered, and Shiro felt his heart stop. He rose onto his hands, looking at Lance in the face. He felt a blanket pool around his waist – when did that get there? – as he searched Lance’s eyes.

“L-love?”

Lance breathed out, reaching for Shiro’s jaw and rubbing it.

“Yeah,” he stated softly. “Both you and Keith. I’ve been thinking it a lot lately, but I kind of wanted to say it when both of you were present. Or when one didn’t just get out of a fit, or when one of you wasn’t crying and locking himself in the bedroom because he’s scared we’re going to leave him.”

“H-he does?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, kind of obvious. He grew up without parents, and it seems like a lot of foster families just left him behind. It makes sense that he’s scared.”

Lance was more observational than Shiro gave him credit for.

“So why push us away so much?” Shiro stuttered, falling back into Lance’s lap while the other played with his hair.

“Something tells me he’s doing whatever he’s doing for us. And maybe he’s not telling us what it because he thinks we wont like what we have to say. Maybe, I don’t know, it’s weird, but maybe there’s also a side to him that thinks we’ll take off too, leave him behind like the rest of them. So he’s pushing himself away, preparing for it when it happens to make sure it doesn’t hurt as much when we leave.”

“But we aren’t going to leave!” Shiro argued, frustrated. “I love him too much-“ He stopped, shocked. He looked up to Lance, eyes wide while Lance knowingly grinned. 

“Oh, I know that. But he doesn’t. And he has been leaning on us a lot, more than he has anyone else. I think we just need to prove that we’re not like the others.”

Shiro exhaled, grabbing the blanket and lifting it back over his shoulders again.

“And how do we do that?” He felt Lance stop his tantalizing petting, and instead patted his head. “Shiro, my beautiful boy, I have the perfect plan.”


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what up fucks, I'm updating on a tuesday/wednesday morning at 2 am.   
> Sorry for the long wait, mental health and a lot of other recent health complications have honestly been beating my ass, not an excuse. Im sorry. I literally just.. couldn't, even though I wanted to.  
> BUT I finally finished this damned chapter. Hopefully this can kick off another writing spree. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Its the big one!   
> As usual, no beta, I do my own, and I wrote the ending just a few hours ago, so I'm sorry for any errors, especially in the ending. I did my best!   
> <3  
> Oh yeah! Warnings: Some homophobic language, and some somewhat brutal depiction of violence.

5

 

 

The night started out dark and cloudy. They were all sleeping in bed, still unsure of what to make of the fight that past just the day before. Things were still tense between Keith and Shiro; Lance had to play middleman, promising Shiro that Keith didn’t want to break up. He was sure of it.

Keith was sulking by himself, running out of a room as though he was a burden the moment someone else stepped in. It was like he thought they didn’t want him around now. 

Lance only wished he could stomp on that ideology. Keith surprisingly still slept in their bedroom, or appeared to be asleep beside them on their bed at the least. One look at the resting, rigid, figure and Lance knew he wasn’t off in dreamland. Lance took the middle that night, Shiro still too worried to be allowed near Keith, scared he’d frighten the younger man.

No one slept.

It was half passed midnight when Lance felt the mattress shift. He didn’t move, pretending to be asleep. Keith seemed to believe it, quietly shuffling through the room for a change of clothes. He went into the bathroom for a short while before emerging out of his pajamas and in his leather jacket and sweatpants. Lance peaked an eye open, noticing how Keith seemed to stall by the bed, watching over them. There was a look, one Lance couldn’t pinpoint in the darkness. 

Keith let out a sound that sounded wounded, and left. 

As soon as the door closed Lance turned to Shiro, shaking his arm. 

“Wha- what? Lance?” Shiro asked, eyes squeezed tight. “What time is it?” 

“Almost quarter past 12. But that plan I had? Yeah, it’s happening now. We’re tracking Keith.” Lance threw off the duvet, rushing towards the shared wardrobe and putting something more comfortable than stylish on. Dark hoodies and skinny jeans always did the trick for sneakery.

 Shiro huffed in tiredness, the grogginess still prevalent in every movement. But years of military service taught Shiro to wake up and move at a moments notice, a survival tactic, and so he ultimately followed Lance in suit. This was the best idea they’d come up with yet.

Why hadn’t they tried it before? (Oh yeah, they were supposed to have this little thing called trust.)

 

X

 

Because horror and thriller movies dictated that any scenario that seemed ‘off’ needed an ominous and eerie atmosphere with many blind spots, it just so happened to be raining. Only fairly hard, nothing horrendous, fortunately. But still. It was raining and the situation was creepy. What kind of God did Lance and Shiro piss off to deserve this?

They drove from a safe distance behind, the rain and late night traffic making it difficult for Keith to tell if someone was following him or not.

And a navy blue F150 was a little bit more underlying than a bright red Kawasaki Ninja. 

They tracked Keith’s bike with little ease, the corners and downpour making their line of sight even more chaotic. If it weren’t for the red of his bike and backpack, they were both sure Keith would have lost them by now.

Lance drove with precision and confidence that Shiro didn’t feel at all, figuring they should have lost Keith 20 minutes before.

But finally Keith slowed down and came to a stop, parking between a few other bikes at the beginning of a bridge along the highway, a fair ways away from the city. Lance drove by as they eyed Keith putting down his kickstand, driving straight onto the highway.

“We need to turn around.” Shiro uttered into the silent night. The highway was practically bare, no one in sight. The lights of the overhead beams were the only thing illuminating the area. The full moon had been a few days prior, so the night sky was pitch black. 

“We need to give him time to get off and walk away. If he sees us come up from behind and park, we wont be able to see what he’s doing...” 

“And how do we know where he’s going to go?”

Lance only gave Shiro a strained look with a halfhearted smile. Lance didn’t know either.

But they were along a riverside, on a highway bridge no less. There were only a few places that Keith could take off towards.

It did take awhile to find an exit and turn around, eventually making their way towards the sketchy parking lot. They jumped out of the truck, noticing the poorly parked bike.

The bike wad between a few other bikes, cars, and trucks which all looked like they needed some desperate maintenance. But a few metres away was a walkway, and a staircase that led down to the riverside. 

It looked more like the fire escape on the side of their apartment building than it did a common staircase. 

The two men looked towards each other, a silent agreement being passed and understood.

Shiro watched Lance pull up the hood of his jacket over his head, hiding himself from the rain. Shiro suddenly wished he’d thought ahead and did the same.

Lance brought out his phone, turning on his flashlight app and watching the battery drain as they slowly descended the many steps. 

It took longer than they’d both like to admit, the rain and the steepness keeping from any speed that could have been gained. But as more time passed, the more worried and irritated Shiro became. If Lance was right and Keith was… prostituting himself, than the customer may have been long gone by now, with Keith in tow.

But Lance seemed to have turned around on the idea, completely against it for whatever reason. 

Either way, it was a distracting sentiment as they finally reached the slippery bottom. 

It was then they noticed just how large the bridge and highway were, making a nice overpass underneath. It held a few warehouses, most likely for cargo if the boats and ships at the harbours edge were anything to go by. There was a metal gate surrounding the area, but it appeared to be open for the evening. 

A dark tunnel formed, and even from a ways away, Shiro and Lance could see the bundles of people in the entrance of one of the warehouses. People were screaming, shouting, seemingly chanting for something. There were makeshift lights hanging along the walls and on the ceiling of the rugged warehouse.

Shiro felt frozen at the sight, but Lance pushed his leaded legs forward.

They came towards the screaming crowd, everyone cheering and yelling in broken slurs. There were mixed chants of ‘Red! Red!’ and ‘Lotor! Lotor!’. Even some booing could be heard. 

Alcohol, cigarettes, and weed could be smelt around the opened area, the errant curls of smoke leaving a misty tint to the room. 

Shiro searched around, looking for Keith but seeing nothing familiar.

The large group was circling something and chanting towards the center of the room, where most of the chaos and noise seemed to be erupting. Shiro tried to narrow his eyes as to what but the group was much to large and active. He couldn’t get a good glimpse.

Ever the saviour with an answer to his questions, he felt a grip at his waist, Lance pulling him to the side. He could barely understand what Lance was saying over the shouting

“Over here, there’s a ledge we can sit on to see from above.”

Shiro understood more of Lance’s actions and pointing than his actual words at this point. 

Shiro nodded, taking Lance’s hand and moving towards the side. The climbed up on the makeshift cargo box that leaned against the walls. They stood alongside the groups of people who had the same thought. 

Lance sneered at the guy beside them, when he was almost his in the eye with an exuberant toss of an empty beer bottle. Shiro didn’t notice.

Shiro continued to search, his eyes drawn around the circle until the familiar jet of black hair caught his eye.

He grabbed Lance’s arm, shaking the poor boy as he too searched. Drops of cold water fell from Lance’s hood onto Shiro’s arm.

The world fell silent of all the screams surrounding them.

 

X

 

It had started almost all too easily two months before when Keith walked into the gym alone. He went about his usual routine wherein he’d warm up, run on spot, use a jump rope before gradually moving over to the heavy bag on the far wall. He wasted away excess energy through a series of punches.

When he was younger, one of his foster homes offered him some sort of self-defense class. He chose jujitsu purely because he liked the name, and fell in love with the sport.

When he was moved from them, because that’s what happened to all foster homes whether they cared for you or not, you were always tugged away, he could no longer afford the classes. Seeking out some sort of way to continue with one of the first things he’d truly come to love, he trained as much as he could through online lessons and workouts he found on Youtube while in the library after school. He’d then head to the park to practice the moves he’d just come to memorize. His newest foster Mom had two jobs and three of her own children, which meant Keith had to stay somewhere safe until she could pick him up after her second shift of the day. Either way, Keith didn’t exactly want to go back to that place if the oldest son was there. He could be a jerk. 

And Little Keith was nothing if not determined. He kept the lessons up, and in moments when he was bullied or harassed, he knew he could fight back. 

One time he accidentally fought back against said oldest sibling of Foster House Number 5, spraining the other’s wrist.

Keith was taken away two days later, a scowl on Foster Mom of the Week’s face. It was hard, he’d later admit; he had liked her.

Afterwards, Keith was forbade from fighting. So as to keep everyone off his back, and to keep away from being a ‘menace’ to society, he sought comfort from books while he hid underneath beds or alone at the end of the hallways, just beside the fire escape so he could walk away if need be. He was mostly left alone until he aged out of the system, the ability to do whatever he wanted suddenly so freeing. He didn’t even know where to begin. 

The even start fighting again felt like a touch to Pandora’s box, something he knew he couldn’t keep away from nor the feelings that exploded when he did.

As of late and years later, he was beginning to switch to boxing, a completely different style of fighting. He imagined a fight between a black belt in Jujitsu, and a high level Boxer, and often found himself laughing. The fight would just not work, the technique and styles would be lost. Trying to read the others movements was near impossible. It’d be hazardous, and almost humorous to watch, like a dance gone completely wrong.

But Keith had only started boxing because Shiro was so keen on it, having first gone to the gym and be taught lessons from his past roommate. Keith enjoyed it more than he realized. He missed fighting. He really did. It offered so much power in a world where Keith had none. But from years of being told no, Keith almost felt guilty for getting back into the sport that felt more like an art at times. 

So he continued, looking up rules and exercises to continue his regime. He wanted to beat Shiro fairly one day, and not once fall back on his jujitsu like he so often did when in a crisis, which led to Shiro winning every damned time during a practice match.

Keith didn’t notice when his boss walked in, eying him warily from the corner as he practiced dead lifts.

The next week after, Keith noticed that his shifts at the mechanic shop were cut again. He’d been having difficulty even trying to get a second job due to the random hours he was working. There was no rhyme or reason, it was just too scattered. And sometimes he’d be called in twenty minutes before the shift started, or called off just as he parked his bike outside the entrance.

Keith had no experience else where, and who wanted to hire an ex-soldier who was kicked out of the military (only due to the fact that he was forcefully outed as gay. What kind of bullshit was that? It had been a complete set-up too. Keith still felt sick when he remembered the scene).

But Keith realized his situation. He had no family to fall back on. He was aged out of the system with the mere clothes on his back and few things from his childhood.

He didn’t have the money to go to college, even if scholarships were offered.

Shiro worked in the military and taught at the world renowned Garrison. He made a hearty amount of money to keep them all on their toes.

Lance worked part-time at his studio, and was going back to school simply to appease his parents. He helped out with the cost of living. He was doing something for their little household.

And what was Keith doing? Barely making enough to afford rent and some ends meet with his part-time job. He needed money. He needed to help out as much as his boyfriends did. He needed more. He hated feeling pitied or that he relied solely on his boyfriends for food. He didn’t want the relationship to feel one sided, or that he was using them. 

Keith refused to take their hard earned cash.

The next day his boss Zarkon came up to Keith, saying he noticed his power at the gym, his agility, and intriguing techniques. Keith was everything he’d been looking for: a beautiful fighter to watch. 

Zarkon said he couldn’t do much about the schedule, they were losing money and he couldn’t afford all the shifts needed at this given time. (Keith would have argued, Zarkon owned five shops around the city, Keith was willing to travel, and he knew the new guy was hired for fulltime and given at least two of Keith’s prior shifts. But Keith couldn’t argue. He couldn’t. Ass kissing was the name of the game, rebelling was not). Zarkon also knew Keith couldn’t find another job, even coffee shops wouldn’t take him as his ‘hours weren’t reliable’.

So Zarkon offered Keith something else.

His son owned a popular warehouse near the rivers edge, under the bridge. It was primarily for foreign cargo import, but at night, Zarkon said, his son held fights. These fights were well received and highly bid upon. Some fighters came out with 500-800 dollars a night due to the high bids.

And for a newcomer and skilled fighter like Keith, Zarkon didn’t think he’d have any trouble winning, and could eventually build up a reputation and make some money. 

Keith accepted, and they filled out a contract. Keith earned 60% of all bids, while Zarkon got the other 40%. If he moved up, Zarkon was willing to change it to 70/30, given Keith’s winnings. They shook hands, and Keith left the office. Zarkon had a look to his face, one Keith shook off and ignored as he closed the door. 

Zarkon pulled out the schedule for the following week, a tight smile on his face. He cut Keith’s Thursday shift, changing it to the new guy named, Sam. That kid didn’t know as much and wasn’t as quick as Keith, but Keith was usable in other ways, was so desperate for cash, he’d do near anything. 

And Zarkon liked those who were vulnerable, willing to put themselves into any situation if it meant surviving.

If it meant being loved.

(What Zarkon didn’t let him know was that he could have put Keith up to full-time. Zarkon could have helped with his scheduling so he could look for another job. But there was something about watching the kid struggle, work his damnest for little pay. Fags like him deserved that type of life.) 

Keith got the directions, and only watched from the sidelines the first night. He felt himself thrive near the arena. He could understand these people, people who had little to nothing, who were forced to survive in the only way they knew how; by fighting. 

To Keith, it felt like the air was ripped from his lungs. He hadn’t felt this belonging in so long. 

He knew he needed in that arena. He needed to fight.

He next day he asked Zarkon how he could sign up.

Zarkon smiled slyly, eyes narrowing. 

Keith’s first fight was that night exactly. He snuck out while his boyfriends were sleeping, and he won through the skin of his teeth.

He made almost 200$.

The pressure in his chest loosened, and Keith felt relieved as he passed out for the first of many times after the fight was called. 

His ribs were bruised and his knuckles bled, but he had an extra 200$ in his pocket. If this continued, he could finally help around the house more. He could finally give more.

He could finally afford what his boyfriend’s deserved. If he didn’t, he knew they’d leave him. Just like everyone else.

Now, Keith’s nickname was well known. The crowd chanted for him, shouting ‘Red’ along the sidelines.

This was an anticipated fight, a larger audience joining then Keith had ever fought in front of. 

It was as jarring as it was exciting, and Keith couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

Keith jutted to the side, hopping from one foot to the other. Keith’s main skill was agility, as he was typically smaller than his opponents. He could knock someone twice his size to their asses, but he couldn’t do it easily. He required endurance to make them tired, second guess their hits. Keith was an observer, and he could kill egotistical confidence in minutes when given the chance.

It more often than not led to Keith winning, but at the cost of his body.

Zarkon remained as his coach, creating a training regime and having Keith train at most hours of the day. Keith was his current bread basket since his son no longer allowed him 25% of all his winnings. 

Zarkon was currently standing at the side of the ring, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he assessed every move. 

But the thing was, this was an underground fight. Rules and equipment didn’t apply. If he fell back to using his jujitsu, it was regulated. If someone grabbed a chair and smashed it over another person’s head, it was allowed. 

If someone was killed because the other fighter didn’t stop after they lost consciousness, it was allowed.

These were brutal fights, and Keith was beginning to regret his decision. He could barely move now a days, and he was on the edge of his boyfriends’ patience.

He couldn’t lose them. 

But he also couldn’t be a burden. 

Keith ducked under Lotor’s flying fist, sending his own right hand punch to Lotor’s muscular stomach. It didn’t’ do much, but every hit counted. He felt something shift in his bruised and swelling knuckles, a strike of pain swarming like electricity up his arm. Keith bit his lip and didn’t scream.

Lotor made a gagging sound, Keith pausing to allow the shock to run its course, adrenaline shifting his focus away from his own pain. He knew he hit right into the stomach. Keith swung around Lotor, awaiting his next attack. Lotor stumbled forward, wiping at his lip. He seemed to understand that Kogane aimed to stay on defense rather than offense during a match with a difficult opponent. The ‘Prince of the Arena’ knew his opponent all too well, had watched matches, gym routines of his Father’s new favourite pet.

Sadly, his last pet had nearly died at Lotor’s hand, blood loss and the loss of a shattered leg keeping his away from fighting for the rest of his life. 

That pet wasn’t as fast as his newest one, though. He also wasn’t as skilled, didn’t rely on quiet observation and instinct. This pet of his Father’s was a fun one, even if difficult. Lotor was overwhelmed with excitement for the moment he could turn that pretty little model face into slop. 

Lotor turned around growling. He flung himself towards Keith, whose arms were up in front of his chest and face protectively.

Lotor hit at both angles harshly, never allowing a break. He hand whammed against the side of Keith’s head, just past his left ear.

Keith felt his neck creak, and his body moved with his weight. He stumbled in a daze to the side, but Lotor caught the movement. He hit on the other side of Keith’s head, the younger crying out but never once dropping his arms.

Keith found himself stuck in a corner, unable to move past Lotor’s larger form, and as he remained in defensive, he couldn’t attack.

He felt dizzy and sick, honestly, Lotor doing good damage to his already injured ribs.

Keith grimaced, arms lifted upwards and barreling himself into Lotor. Lotor was surprised, figuring he had Keith where he wanted him and realized the attack too late. Keith pushed Lotor harshly backwards. He slammed his forehead against Lotor’s nose, feeling it break against his skin. 

Blood fell instantly and the crowd roared. 

Keith huffed, catching his breath as Lotor held it in pain. He looked enraged, ready to kill Keith for weakening him.

It had rarely happened before. 

Keith spit, tasting copper in his own mouth. He must have bit the inside of his cheek when Lotor punched him.

Keith saw Lotor getting prepared to attack again, Keith fell back into position when a flash of black and white passed his eye.

He looked up to the ledge, where people stood behind the rails, cheering, shouting at him, booing at him. There was so much noise. 

And on the corner on top of the crates, were two wide eyes. 

Shiro seemed unable to move, his mouth slightly open. 

Lance held a stern expression, his hoodie hiding his hair. Even from there, he could see them holding onto each other.

When, how did they- 

Lotor punched Keith in the cheek. Keith fell to the ground, slamming against it. Lotor fell to a knee, his elbow slamming into Keith’s back and Keith screamed. He rolled away when he saw Lotor lift his leg, trying to stomp on him.

Keith growled, jumping up. His vision tilted, and he knew this had to be quick, or he was going to pass out. He was going to lose. His back didn’t feel right, his legs, he couldn’t feel them. It- how-

But Keith couldn’t afford to lose. 

He saw some blurry image of Lotor running at him. It was hazy. 

Keith’s head throbbed and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Keith jumped forward, aiming a poor roundhouse kick to the side of Lotor’s head. He pulled his muscles forward, hitting Lotor deeply in the chest. Lotor backed up, hiding his face as Keith attacked. Their positions were switched, and Keith had the fucker where he wanted him. He kept punching Lotor’s side, his chest, his arms, his head. Anywhere he could hit.

Lotor dodged one of his flying fists, grabbing at the wrist and twisting it.

Keith felt it break and he fell to his knees in pain.

Lotor loomed above him, ready to knock out his opponent when someone jumped into the ring between them.

Keith blinked upwards, seeing two tall men in front of him, standing protectively between him from Lotor.

Someone was yelling. Loud and clear. Had the room gone silent? No one had ever stepped into a match before.

Someone would die before that happened. Someone had died before that happened.

He saw Zarkon’s hands wrap around the ropes, shaking them absurdly. 

Keith could barely hear. Everything was buzzing. His body felt like it was an electric wire. He felt himself shaking, choking on blood. 

But someone tall, lean, and tan was yelling back.

The bigger of the two was having a silent showdown with Lotor.

He really couldn’t understand much anymore.

He let go, the world turning black.

 

X

 

He woke up in a room of white. It smelled distinctly like antiseptic and chemicals. Keith wiggled his nose at the fuming scent but found the pain overwhelming. He groaned, noticing how his head spiked with intensity. He shifted his body, adjusting every muscle to see if they were still okay.

“Looks like our lil’ fighter’s awake.” 

Keith blinked his eye open at the voice, two blurry figures looking over him. 

Shiro and Lance were sitting on the same side, Lance with his arms crossed and a hefty bandage over his nose, while Shiro remained without any injuries. They both hovered in the corner, and had dark circles underneath their eyes, exhaustion etching their faces. 

And Keith knew, this was it. They were done. Keith went too far.

Keith made way to open his mouth, to apologize, to explain- but nothing but a rugged sound came out.

“Try not to speak, your voice box was badly damaged.”

Keith’s eyebrows drew together, unsure. He noticed a neck brace, the cast of his wrist moving its way up to touch it. He panicked, a whine emerging from his throat.

“Lotor got through Lance. He punched him and shoved me to the side. He…. Said he’d kill you if it was the last thing he did. He chocked you and almost crushed-“

“But Shiro stopped him.” Lance continued, kind hand a supportive weight on Shiro’s shoulder.

Keith’s stomach clenched, and his hand that was left relatively unharmed grabbed at the sheets. He shifted underneath the covers more, wanting to hide himself.

Lance and Shiro didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve Keith in their lives. He was a menace, a horrible delinquent, someone who’d never go far.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He tried, he wanted to be better, but- 

Keith stopped, eyes falling to the floor as he shifted as much has he could to the side.

His leg was in a cast, and he could tell that he probably had some sort of spinal nerve damage. But his legs weren’t numb, he could still feel them, wiggle his toes. He sighed.

At least it hadn’t been permanent. But just because he could move his feet didn’t mean he could walk. 

Fuck, how would he pay for physiotherapy? Who was paying for the room? Who paid for the casts and- 

Hands were on him, rubbing his shoulders. 

“Calm down, Keith. Just breath, okay babe? Breathe with me.” It was Shiro. 

And as wired as Keith was, he tried to follow, tried to mimic Shiro. 

He could do it. He could be good this one last time.

“That’s good. You’re okay, Keith.” 

Lance tucked a piece of black hair behind his ear, petting at his head.

Keith whimpered, and tried to hide his face further into his stiff pillow. 

As they shushed him, Keith had never felt so undeserving.

 

X

 

Keith was released a little over a full month later, Shiro and/or Lance coming to visit daily. Even though Keith was beginning to gain ability of his voice again, he remained utterly quiet, allowing Lance to instead talk about Christmas, setting the apartment up accordingly, where his parents were going this year in Mexico, and how exams had finished for the year, even though Thanksgiving had just past. Lance was taking the rest of year off from work to help Keith, and take a break from life.

He said it was time for a home-cation, Keith just believed it was a lie to make Keith feel better. He didn’t know why.

Shiro remained mostly in stoic silence, often reading with a small smile in the corner.

Neither felt hostile, which left Keith confused.

Upon his release and finally out of his neckbrace and the casts on his arm and leg, Keith was ordered to bedrest, and had to use crutches while around the house, while doing certain exercises for the dislodged disc in his back. However, even with the allowance of using crutches, Keith left the hospital in a wheelchair.

He wouldn’t be allowed to work for almost another two months, which made Keith’s heart spike when told.

He didn’t even have the most basic health insurance.

Shiro waved it off, either ignoring or never realizing Keith’s initial panic. 

Keith figured out quickly that he couldn’t make it up the stairs on crutches, Shiro lifting him up carefully and carrying him up the steps instead. Lance followed behind, carrying the hospital bags and crutches, laughing about some joke he was told at work.                                

The door opened, and Keith was left stunned.

The room was decorated with a fake tree that had yet to be fully completed, and silver tinsel hanging around the fireplace and mantel, surrounding smiling pictures of all three household members. Lance’s colour aesthetic was white, silver, and even some pale blues. The counter was done up as well, with bowls of plastic blue, white, and silver balls, tinsel between fake pine trees. The round dinner table even held a beautiful red poinsettia. 

The room smelt like Christmas, Lance’s candles scenting the room with a thickly pine scent. 

Music, not Christmas, played from Shiro’s phone. 

Obviously, Lance had made sure the apartment looked lived in while they spent most of the time in the hospital with Keith. 

Keith remembered vaguely while stuck in the hospital and on too many pain medications how Lance had said the colours represented each of them: pale blue for Lance, silver for Shiro, and white for Keith.

Keith was only left more confused. He didn’t say as much.

Shiro didn’t put Keith down when they moved their way from the entrance. He instead placed him comfortably on the sofa, puffing the cushion before setting Keith down completely. Keith blinked, opened his mouth.

Something was stuck inside his throat or someone was cutting onions, he was sure of it.

They even had the electric fireplace on, the room heated while Shiro surrounded Keith with a blanket and Lance asked if anyone wanted tea.

“Green.” Shiro said, and promptly looked towards Keith.

“What would you like? Anything?” 

Shiro was acting like nothing happened, and it bothered Keith. They hadn’t discussed anything about that night, or anything that happened before. It bothered him.

It was small and gravelly and rough, but his voice rose from his throat, pain following the sound. “I fucked up.” Keith coughed after the sound, and Shiro’s expression changed. 

“Keith, we don’t have to do this now.” 

“But Shiro, I-“

“Need to rest. You can barely talk, Keith. No one’s forcing you. We can have a conversation later, which will happen. But for now, we want you to feel comfortable and get better.”

Keith was relentless. “Who paid for the hospital bills.”

Shiro breathed out, unsure. “Keith, really. We can discuss everything tomorrow, or even tonight after dinner, why not-“

“I need to know, Shiro. Do I need to pay both of you guys back? How much?”

“Nothing.” Shiro explained, moving so he held himself on the balls of his heels, elbows on his knees in front of Keith. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Bull true. You don’t think we talked to the police afterwards? That we figured out that Zarkon was giving away your shifts to have you fight in hat arena? To earn him money? There was an investigation, Keith.”

Keith didn’t respond, feeling the couch shift as Lance sat down, hands holding the different mugs.

He passed Shiro his green tea, and offered Keith a steaming cup of Hot Chocolate, whip cream and all.

Keith accepted it with unsteady hands. 

He didn’t deserve this. Any of this. 

He said as much. 

“Why were you doing it, Keith?” Lance asked, voice almost as rough as Keith’s own. 

“I don’t deserve you guys. I never did.” 

“But--“

“I don’t. I’m a delinquent, a good for nothing orphan. No one wants me around, it’s how it always goes.”

“Keith.”

“No. If.. if I don’t pay my share or try and give you guys everything you deserve, I know I’m gone.” 

Shiro shifted, but Keith held a palm out, stopping him. Maybe it was the last bits of medication he was on, or the constant lethargy he felt, but Keith couldn’t stop himself. This breakdown had been on its way for far too long, and Keith couldn’t hinder it any longer. 

His raspy, barely there voice broke over his words, “I can’t be a burden to you, I care for you too much. But I am, and I’m always doing something to fuck up, but I’m trying, I’m really trying to be good. I really want to be good for you guys. It’s… it’s nice here, with you two. It feels… safe, comfortable. And sleeping with you guys at night and waking up to your faces being the first thing I see? I didn’t want to lose that, I couldn’t lose that. But I’m me, so I’m going to fuck it all up eventually. I was just- trying to keep it going as long as I could… Before it happened.”

“You’re scared we’re going to dump you…”

Keith bit his lip, nodding. “Kick me out, see me for who I really am. I thought- I thought if I cleaned as much as I could, helped around the kitchen, tried to help out with groceries, help in almost anyway I could because I actually wanted to, and never rely on you guys for help, it’d be fine.” 

Keith lived his life always on the sidelines, watching from the window but never being the one on the inside, laughing and warm. 

“When- when I can walk. I’ll pack my bags, leave. I can be out of your life, then.” 

“What the fuck, Keith. You think we’re actually breaking up with you?” 

“That’s what this is, isn’t? Settle it gently over hot chocolate? With my favourite blanket? I know how these things are handled, It’s happened to me dozens of times already.”

“Jesus Christ, Keith. No. We’re not breaking up with you!” Lance exasperated. 

Keith fell further into his blanket and pillow. He was left stunned, blinking and looking between Lance and Shiro. Shiro held a small smile, nodding his head along with Lance’s frustrations. 

“Y-you aren’t?”

“No, Keith. Never. We know you were scared, we know you were pulling away. We just… wanted to know why.”

Even if Keith wanted to speak, he couldn’t. The hearty bulge in his throat was growing too large at the moment. He tried to breath through it, gulp it down, it only tightened his chest more.

“I said it before, Keith.” Shiro started, moving up and sitting beside Lance, reaching a hand onto Keith’s covered legs. “There was an investigation. Zarkon was purposely screwing you over to keep you in the ring. He was manipulating you, okay? He knew you were scared, he knew you were a kind, hard worker, and willing to do whatever it was to keep us. You thought that meant being financially independent, but goddamit, I’ll pay for the moon if it means I keep to have you in my life. I know you wish to be financially independent. We can work on that, but we help out together, right? It’s why we’re here.”

“But I-“

“I think-“ Lance started, placing the warm palm of his hand on Keith’s upright knee underneath the blanket. “I think there’s a lot more going on here, stuff that been kept inside and pent up for too long. I think us communicating now is a good first step, but I think we should stop for tonight.”

Keith’s lip trembled, and he furiously blinked, looking towards the cushion and away from his boyfriends eyes.

Lance nudged his knee kindly. “If you want, I can look into counselling, or a therapist. We can all go. I think theres some stuff we should all discuss, to a neutral party who knows how to correctly handle it- give us advice.”

Shiro shuddered, still kneeling on his haunches.

Keith peered up from his hiding place, looking over his shoulder towards Shiro. 

So Shiro, loudly swallowing over the fear, nodded. “Yeah… yeah I think that’d help. We probably have some good resources from the Garrison.”

“That’s a good point-“

“I can’t afford therapy.” Keith whispered.

Shiro opened his mouth, wishing he knew what to say, but Lance jumped on the chance.

“I thought you might say that, so I may have looked up some resources. Wanna hear em’, Keith?”

Keith, slowly, came out a bit farther from the blankets, nodding his head.

“Good boy.” Lance jumped from his place, rushing towards the table and flinging open a text book. He grabbed a piece of paper that’d he furiously been searching for, and jumped back over the couch, falling into a sitting position with perfect grace.

“So! I- I know it’s hard to talk about, but- but I found some government run agencies. Places that help with low-income homes, womens issues, all that stuff. And one of the groups they run is one-on-one counselling, under the name ‘Stop the Violence’. It’s free, for those who qualify with one of the following- uhh: anxiety, depression, past/current domestic abuse, sexual abuse, ptsd, low-income households, and/or addictions. They also have counsellors to talk to for a first time consultation, to see if you qualify. I think, Keith. I think this would be a good start. For all of us, and then I can look into group counselling, for all of us. Because while I do think we have a good relationship, there’s always room for improvement, and I don’t always know what to say- or when to shut up and listen.” 

Shiro laughed at Lance’s dancing eyebrows, trying to lighten up the mood. 

He grabbed for the piece of paper, Lance’s handwriting jumbled throughout the entire page.

“And people who suffer from PTSD too, huh?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. But like you said, the Garrison might know some better resources for that. But, I thought it’d be a good start…” Lance looked sheepish, suddenly embarrassed by his research. Was this even a good idea? He wasn’t sure if Shiro was just putting on a brave face or not. 

A trembling hand reached up, grabbing for Lance’s own and squeezing.

“It’s a good starting point.” Keith said. “It’s- yeah. It’s good.” 

Lance turned his hand around, embracing Keith’s hand fully. “Good.” 

Keith pushed himself forward, with a little struggle, but nudged his way onto his knees, beside Lance. He ran a pale, thin hand down Lance’s cheek, stroking it.

“Would it- can I kiss you?” He asked, hesitant.

Shiro snorted, but Lance held Keith’s gaze.

“Always.”

Keith moved forward first, Lance staying back and allowing him the initiative. A broken sound came from Lance’s mouth when Keith’s chapped lips pressed into his perfectly soft ones.

Lance wounded his arms around Keith’s torso, pulling him closer and carefully onto his lap. While the bruises and broken and fractured bones had healed, Lance wanted to be gentle.

This felt like something more.

He needed to prove that they wanted to Keith to stay. That they wanted him for who he was. And Lance was a pro and putting his actions before his words (okay totally not, he always spoke before thinking, but he could try this time, dammit). 

Shiro moved, seating himself beside Keith and Lance. He toyed with Keith’s hair, finger pressing against that point along Keith’s neck that made him mewl and curl like a cat. 

Keith panted, moving away from the kiss. “God… It’s been so long.” He muttered, opening his heated eyes. He felt the flush on his cheeks, his already hardening cock beneath his sweats.

He shifted on Lance’s lap, cursing.

Lance moved his hands up and down his thighs. “Not so fast, Tiger.” Lance said, a certain lustful tone in his voice.

Keith whined, his hard on worsening at that sound. Shiro moved forward, pressing himself against Keith’s back and whispering hotly into his ear, “you’re still healing.” 

“Barely.” Keith managed, Lance’s long fingers moving up from his thighs and over state of groin. Keith shuttered. 

“Teases.” Lance squeezed, and Keith sighed, pushing his hips into the touch only for Lance to fall back. He held a pleased expression on his face. “Both of you.”

Shiro pulled away first, Keith pouting from the loss of warmth.

“Maybe you’re right. How about a movie, to pass the time.”

“Yeah, a movie sounds good-“

“No.” Keith said, his hands held in a soft fist. 

Both Shiro and Lance arched an eyebrow. “No?” 

“Why don’t we-“ Keith motioned to all of them with a circular wave of his hand, “take this to the bedroom?”

“Because you’re still healing!” Lance said first, while Shiro stuttered, “Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. I’m not fragile. I just spent a bit more than a month in the hospital. I haven’t jerked off in forever. All my casts are gone and most of my bruises are perfectly healed. I get it, you don’t want to hurt me, so just don’t go rough. I’d say I top to make you two feel less concern, but I don’t think I can have anyone over my lap, and I don’t think I can hold myself up long enough to do doggy style… missionary might work but... fuck it I just really want to feel you guys again. I’ve missed you two… and I can tell you’re both hard.” Keith ground down on Lance’s lap, forcing a high pitched squeak from his mouth, while also pointing at Shiro's very evident bulge. "I want it," Keith pressed, making sure his statement was understood. When neither Shiro or Lance replied, Keith leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a shrug.

“So… bedroom?”

 

X

 

After some (very minor) arguing, Lance and Shiro gave in. Shiro made his way to carry Keith, but to prove his point of ‘healing’ Keith promptly grabbed his crutches and began tutting away towards the bedroom.

Lance blinked listlessly, turning back towards a stunned Shiro, who just held up his hands unassured.

It had been forever, and god, did they both miss it. They both missed Keith and the push and pull he brought to the relationship. There had always been a flame there, one that had been on the precipice of blowing out for so long. This was the first time in months that Shiro and Lance had seen it slowly coming back to light. It wasn’t exactly what it had been, not nearly as strong, there was still too much in the air for that.

But it was a start.

They made it to the bedroom, shuffling in and a little unsure. Keith sat on his side along the edge of the bed, feeling the soft blankets under his hands.

“It’s been so long.” Keith sighed again, content. Lance fell beside him, grabbing his face and pulling him forward. “It has been,” he muttered before finally giving Keith a lengthy and intense kiss. 

Keith whined when Lance pushed forward a bit more, hand skirting up his shirt, lifting it. Keith pulled away, lifting his arms so the material could come off. Shiro moved then, helping Lance pull it away perfectly. Shiro ducked down, pressing his lips against the slightly atrophied muscles along Keith’s shoulder, while Lance made work of collarbone on the other side. Keith closed his eyes, falling into the sensations his boyfriends together made. Everything was warm and nothing hurt, and suddenly Keith was pulled higher up on the bed, his back gently pressed against the pillows. 

He stared up, Lance and Shiro looming down over him. He gulped, not liking the intense attention. He reached for them, and Shiro offered a dark chuckle, rutting his body over Keith’s and dipping into to kiss him. Lance sat back, pulling at Keith’s sweatpants and his own bulge. 

The bedroom door was still opened, the bright orange light of the hallway enticing the scene, illuminating it. The bedroom was otherwise dark to the shadows the lived inside.

Keith let out a loud moan, unable to keep it at bay as Shiro began holding him, his fingers gliding up his sides while Lance finished his job of getting Keith completely naked.

“You’re so sensitive right now,” Shiro muttered into his lips. “Usually you’re much more quiet.” He nested into Keith’s neck, nipping and biting carefully. Keith shivered, his arms running around Shiro’s shoulders and holding him tightly.

“In all honesty, I never knew if I made you feel good or not.” Shiro confessed and Keith gasped as someone, he wasn’t sure who, wrapped a hand around his erect member.

He shivered again, pressing a kiss into Shiro's temple to shut himself up. “Always,” he eventually panted between pants and moans, “always make me feel g-good. Fuck…” 

Shiro felt a slight push at his still clothed ass, trying to move him at the waist. Shiro smiled, still kissing Keith, moved his hand away from the heated cock, heavy in his hands.

He could only smile more when Keith made a loud noise, shooting forward deeper into Shiro’s skin as Lance moved his mouth over him. Lance held his hips down, and Shiro knew the proud face he was making, had all too often looked down to see Lance making the same towards him when Shiro arched his back, begging for more.

Lance pushed at Keith’s legs, pulling them over his shoulders and bending him slightly. Shiro petted the twitching and beautifully shaking Keith throughout the ministrations, Lance knowing the perfect line between pleasure, pain, and pure teasing. 

Shiro also knew, by the sounding click of a bottle, what was about to happen next. 

Keith moved away from Shiro’s mouth, pulling his legs off from around Lance and dragging them towards his chest. He offered more access, as embarrassing as he felt it was. 

Lance smirked knowingly. 

“My, my. Demanding little one tonight, aren’t cha’.” 

Keith whined and said nothing, moving his hips to get Lance to hurry up.

Shiro chuckled at their antics, pressing a kiss to Keith’s head and petting his hair when Lance pressed a single finger into Keith. It was slow, Keith being much too tight from months without sex.

Keith was also known to have trouble relaxing while bottoming. He’d often get too excited for the main course rather than wait around and enjoy the hors d’ouevres. 

“You’re doing great, Keith. So good for us.” Shiro murmured into his ear.

Keith shivered. Lance was slow and thorough in his process, enjoying suckling at Keith’s balls and tip of his cock, while easing his finger in and out of the tight ring of muscle. 

Keith was as beautiful as he was shaking, hands rutting between Shiro and Lance’s skin and digging deeply into the bed sheets. 

When Lance started on he second finger, the octave in Keith’s raw voice peaked, and his hips started thrusting forward. 

The man flushed deeply, embarrassed at the sound he made. Shiro chuckled, hushing him, rubbing his hands over Keith’s tight shoulders and down his chest.

Keith turned towards Shiro and suddenly pulled him down to kiss him aggressively. Shiro’s eyes shot open, not having enough time to catch himself and falling forward on the others chest. The movement forced Keith to further dip into the sheets and for his hips to thrust higher up. Lance chocked, falling deeper into Keith, via both his fingers and mouth. 

Shiro was startled when he felt two hands grab at his own ass, slapping it cheekily.

He pushed away from Keith and his deep-tongued kiss, somehow managing to avoid the bites on his lips Keith tried to force to keep Shiro down on him.

He saw Lance, puckered and reddened lips still suckling on Keith, looking at Shiro provacativaley, eyes heated and needy. Lance’s free hand grabbed at his ass and squeezed again, making Shiro arch and thrust into the bed sheets. 

Lance started Keith on three fingers when Keith found control of his breathing, playing with the hem of Shiro’s pants.

“Y-you guys… still dressed.” He huffed desperately. “Off now.”

Lance was right. Keith was needy and demanding tonight. 

It was a nice change in pace.

Shiro sat up on his knees. And with Keith’s fidgety fingers, together they pulled the man’s top and belt off, Lance too getting rid of his pants and flinging them onto the floor.

Keith went straight to work, pulling Shiro back down and suckling at his nipples, teasing and bruising and marking the man’s scarred chest as his. Theirs. Once Lance got a chance to join him. 

Keith was soon riding four fingers, Keith now thrusting himself deeply into the touch, not-so-silently begging for more. He didn’t want to come yet, and his toes were curling, and his gut was coiling, and the warmth was beginning to spread. 

Keith was too close, Lance’s fingers being exactly what he loved and more.

But, he wanted to continue. He wanted more. 

Lance lifted off at the perfect time, Keith sighing at the relief. He was still desperate, still so on edge. But-

He reached for Shiro’s cock, grabbing it and rubbing it up and down, just the way Shiro liked. 

Lance sat up and flung his shirt across the room. He spread himself over Shiro’s back, pressing his still lubed up finger into Shiro’s ass crack, kissing the back of his neck.

Shiro, sitting on his knees, almost fell backwards from the sudden attention, eyes closing in euphoria.

“Want me to do you next, babe? I know much you love this.” Lance chuckled deeply into his ear, his finger rubbing against Shiro’s own ring of muscle.

Shiro breathed in deeply, looking downwards, watching at how intensely and heatedly Keith was watching them. 

Shiro shook his head and Lance pulled away.

“Not tonight.” 

He grabbed at Keith’s under arms and pulled him up. Shiro turned to Lance, the other smiling widely and already understanding.

“Tonight’s about you.” Shiro turned back to Keith, kissing him while Lance shifted around, making a tight Keith sandwich. Lance continued playing with Keith’s ass, kissing and biting anywhere his mouth could reach.

Keith was in heaven.

“I- I was fine watching that though.”

Shiro shrugged. “You might have been fine with it. But we can do so much better than fine.”

Wordlessly, Shiro turned Keith around, Lance falling against the wall and pillows comfortable. He got his body comfortable before reaching for Keith’s waist, pulling him over his lap, Keith’s knees nudging Lance’s hips from how he was sitting.

If Lance thrust just right, he’d be deep into those cheeks right about now.

But Lance eyed Shiro who kneeled, ready and awaiting behind Keith, wanting to experience something else. Something new and slow.

This time felt different, and Shiro figured they all knew why.

Lance pulled Keith towards his waist, lifting his hips backwards so Keith arched his back and ass. Lance pulled Keith’s ass cheeks apart with a massaging technique, and Keith sighed. Keith laid there, perfectly content on Lance, his hands on Lance’s chest as he cuddled further into his already sweaty and curling hair, all the while presenting himself for Shiro. 

He was damn near rising towards Heaven at this rate. 

The feeling from earlier began to rise up, though, Keith’s eyes opening and blinking furiously, trying to rush the thoughts away. 

He wiggled his ass and heard Shiro make a needy noise.

“Go on, Shiro. You take him first." 

Shiro ran his hands down Keith’s spine, and gently fingered his ready, needy hole.

“Is that okay, Keith?”

Keith whined, and wiggled some more. 

“Nuh-uh. No silence. We need words, babe. Can you do that for us?” Lance prompted, still pressing his fingers into Keith’s plumped skin.

“So Keith,” Shiro tried again. “Is it okay if I take you now.” 

Keith almost started to cry then and there. He squirmed and nodded furiously into the crook of Lance’s neck. He inhaled deeply, calming himself.

“Y-yes. Yes, Shiro.” 

With that, Shiro pushed forward, the tight ring hot against the head of cock, just beginning to nudge inside.

They both made a sound when Shiro finally breached.

“That’s good, babes.” Lance whispered to both. “You look beautiful. Isn’t he gorgeous, Shiro? 

Shiro had trouble breathing right, thrusting slowly in, and back out, only to force himself a little bit more inside. It always took awhile for Keith to fully take Shiro to the hilt. So instead of talk, Shiro nodded and whined and made a pleasant sound. His hands were beginning to tremble, holding Keith’s waist.

“That’s good.” Lance said, kissing Keith’s hair. 

When Shiro accidentally pushed further than he intended, Keith yelped. It wasn’t loud, he tried to hide it- but he just hadn’t been expecting it and- but Shiro- 

Shiro never meant harm. Keith was giving Shiro equal amounts pleasure. Who was he to stop it? This felt good. They both felt good. Keith… Keith deserved it, right? 

It didn’t feel right.

And now Shiro slowed down, worried because of the sound Keith made.

Fuck, fuck it all. Keith cursed himself.

That’s all he ever did, was make them worry. Even now, when it was supposed to be- no. When it _had_ been good. Keith. Just always fucking things up and worrying his boyfriends.

He was such a selfish, fucked up- 

Keith began to shake. 

“This feels good, right babe?” 

Keith jutted his chin to the side, mouth opening to let out a loud moan, nipping at Lance’s neck. Lance arched an eyebrow at the intense, nearing fake sound. “So good,” he murmured, the bliss from before beginning to fade as thoughts began taking over.

“Good, we want you to feel good.” Lance whispered back, rubbing the nubs of Keith’s spine and shoulder.

Keith felt that little ball in his throat rise up again, getting stuck. He coughed. 

They wanted him to… they wanted to make him feel good? Him?

“You deserve to feel good, babe.” Shiro sighed out loud, voice overcome with lust, rising from above. 

“That’s right, hear that babe?” Lance repeated, brushing Keith’s bangs away. 

This was so overdone. So overly romanticized. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t the truth. Keith knew better than to believe it in the past. Why was he so frantically wanting to believe it now? 

“We want you to feel good, just like you deserve. Because you too are good. You deserve to feel like how you make us feel.” 

This wasn’t. This just wasn’t right. Keith’s mind was racing, trying to understand. These seemed like lies. Overwrought, overbearing wistful lies. Pretty little fairytales Keith would tell himself before he fell asleep, like a lullaby. They weren’t true. They wouldn’t happen. Not to people like Keith.

He made a broken sound, one mistaken for pleasure as Shiro bottomed out.

“We want you here, Keith. With us.” Shiro whispered from above, and Lance pushed Keith up a little, tracing his slim cheekbones with his fingers. “Lets show him how much we love him.”

‘L-love?’ Keith squeaked, voice cracking. The word sounded totally incoherent. His eyebrows knitted together, and if at all possible, he felt Shiro slowing down his shortened juts, driving right into his prostate. 

Love? Keith didn’t- he’d never- no one had ever- he didn’t deserve!

Keith’s breathing hitched, and Lance tilted his head at the wild look he suddenly caught in Keith’s eyes.

“You okay, babe?” He asked slowly, pinching Shiro’s thigh to make sure he understood: this was not to continue until Keith was calm. 

Shiro stopped completely. 

Lance watched as every emotion on running across Keith’s mind made themselves known, usually so shielded, Lance almost wanted to look away, if only to reserve Keith’s perseverance. Keith’s eyes were wide, tears brimming on the edges. He sounded like he could barely breath. 

It just seemed like Keith panicking, barely even there in the moment. Keith lost himself to his thoughts, and Lance could do nothing but watched, mouth open unsure of where to even begin. 

But Keith fell forward a little, his bangs falling over his eyes. His fists subconsciously tightened on Lance’s chest, to which Lance responded by grabbing softly, holding. He had to be the sturdy weight once again.

Keith had never had- love didn’t seem like the right word- he didn’t deserve.

It had to be a sick joke, right? Keith was unlovable. Everyone used him for their own gain: foster parents for money, Zarkon for money, Gregory from the military for laughs, to see a fag like him get taken down a few notches- this wasn’t.

But it was Shiro and Lance, they wouldn’t play him, they wouldn’t.

But love? Love was just- …

It had been too long since Lance had spoken, gaining no response from Keith. And they could hear the hitch in Keith’s breath, could feel his fastening heartbeat underneath their fingertips. Shiro shook his head, worried.

“We should stop.” He announced, beginning to pull himself out. 

Keith’s hand flew back to keep him there. He shook his head, and Lance felt rather than saw a few teardrops fall onto his chest.

“N-no, continue… p-please- I - you want-“ Keith choked on a sob, quickly hiding his face into the warmth of Lance’s shoulder. Shiro looked Lance in the eye, the two sharing a quiet, understanding look.

Keith felt a soft touch move from the top of his spine to his waist, and Keith’s hand fell away from Shiro, instead folding himself into Lance’s shoulder, now verging on hysterics. “Calm, Keith. It’s okay. Just calm down.” Lance whispered, beginning to sing a song he knew Keith liked to when he didn’t think the other was listening.

More tears came falling, his body shaking openly, but the hysterics came down a little.

“Yeah, we should stop.” Shiro whispered, pulling out of Keith completely. The latter of the two barely noticed, his body wracking in loud sobs by this point. 

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith, falling into a sitting position against the pillows, cooing to the smaller of the two. Keith stayed, laying curled on his chest. Shiro fell to his elbow on his side, his mechanic arm slung around Keith, holding him closely. 

“I love you, Keith. We don’t want you to ever leave us because you think we do.” Shiro said. “We want you here, with us. Forever. For however long you’ll have us.”

A barely heard hiccup, and Lance tightened his hold. He placed his chin on top of the other’s head.

“I love you too, Keith. Don’t ever forget that.”

The tears didn’t stop for a long while. Shiro and Lance figured Keith needed to let it out, his worries, pains and concerns. The other never cried, and if he did he never sought out comfort. If he did cry, he’d pretend it didn’t happen, shut himself away, deal with it himself. He’d learned to deal with pain himself, only he could see himself like this. If anyone else saw, they’d leave. They’d all leave.

Again. Again. Again. 

Shiro and Lance wanted to prove that ideology different. Still, with the crying and actively seeking comfort, this was a first for all three.

They were just proud Keith seemed to finally trust them- no, no trust, that wasn’t entirely true. More accurately, felt comfortable enough around them now to let them hold him as he fell.

Soon the sobs quieted down, his body finally letting itself shut off. Eyes closed, and Lance and Shiro knew he had finally fallen asleep, face still hot and wet, sniffling against Lance’s bare shoulder.

It went without saying that Keith took the middle that night, wrapped protectively around Shiro and Lance’s arms. This, too, was a first for all three. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consent! Stopping when needed! *throws confetti in air* It's important!   
> Also! Fighting ring! What everyone guessed!! :D :D :D We knowww what was happening nowww!  
> In this au, everyone switches, because I've recently become enamoured/way more enthralled by bottom!Shiro. I also think thats most realistic.   
> And Keith! My baby boy! You are loved! Believe itttttt
> 
> Sorry about the long wait, hopefully next chapter comes out in a much shorter amount of time... *fingers crossed*

**Author's Note:**

> Im like Shiro, its way past my bedtime too :'( I know it might be OOC for them not to step up even more and help Keith out, but they're new to this, Keith needs space, and so theyre really trying respect Keith's boundaries and not push too hard in fear hell leave. Thats the main question of this fic, when is it okay to start start pushing someone more for information when theyre obviously hurt, but theyre vehemently against it?  
> yknow what? Everyone needs some Shklance in their life. Hope you enjoy! :D A comment, kudos, or a review is always appreciated :D  
> Also, hit me up, turnawaytherose.tumblr.com, I sometimes reblog cool shit


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